Kindling
by Holliday1081
Summary: When everything they've worked their entire lives for goes up in smoke, can two pirates manage to rebuild their lives? JA
1. Kindling

Obligatory disclaimer noting the fact that I own nothing from PotC.

a/n: This story is in response to a challenge from the Black Pearl Scrolls. I've characteristically responded with a short angsty fic. Hope you all like it!

**Kindling:**

As a boy, he'd seen cruelty and neglect. As a young man he'd seen death come to friends and family long before their time. As a man, he'd seen betrayal and defeat, enough to make him want to close his eyes forever. But, he was no longer just a man. He was a sailor. A pirate. A Captain, and what a Captain sees in his lifetime can never compare to what he smells. Strange as it sounds, the ghastly aromas that a Captain finds on his journey can outlast a thousand scenes that play out in front of his eyes. The bittersweet perfume of gunpowder. The stench of infection in a shipmate. The aroma of death, hanging in the air long after a battle. Worst of all, the scent of burning lumber.

In time, though he didn't know how long, he would be able to close his eyes without seeing the beautiful black timbers that had become his home disappearing into ugly clouds of smoke. Someday, he would be able to sit alone in a quiet room and not hear the powder magazine exploding. The screams of his crew as they leapt into the sea. He may indeed find a way to forget the battle, to forget the mistakes, to live with his loss and turn his back on the whole day. But, the sickening odor of his ship turning to embers would still waft in from his past every time he passed a home with a fire roaring in the fireplace or entered a tavern in the dead of night to escape the chill. The smell of firewood would always be there reminding him, taunting him with memories of his failure.

How many years had passed since he had been given command of his black, three-masted mistress? How many nights had he spent on deck guiding her through waters both friendly and dangerous? How many storms that would have felled an inferior vessel? Even on the darkest day of his life, when his lady had been taken from him, he still knew in some corner of his heart that he would find her again. If someone would have asked him ten years ago, he would have said that nothing this side of hell would part him from the Pearl. Maybe he had unwittingly sailed into the devil's realm. Maybe he was doomed to stay there. Alone, surrounded by the scent of blazing fire.

If he'd cared for anything anymore, he might of started scouting his surroundings for a means of escape or at least another cache of rum. As it was, he cared for nothing. He could only stand on the shore gazing out at his ship and ask himself why. Why had he been so careless? Why had he let down his guard? Why did he have to be the only one to survive?

Taking off the hat that had stayed with him for over twenty years, he bowed his head in a moment of silence for the men and the woman that he would never see again. She'd given him that hat, a lifetime ago on the balcony of her house beneath the moonlight. Turning the worn leather tricorner in his hands, he could almost see her brown eyes, sparkling when she laughed or flashing when she was angry. He could still feel sting of her hand on his face when he'd been coy. Those same hands tangled in his hair or on his shoulder in a silent show of unyielding support. Most of all, he reveled in the memory of her scent. She always smelled of orchids, her favorite flower. Every time they made port in any town of class, she would scour the shops for the same orchid perfume, the only luxury she'd brought along from her former life. He always knew when she stood outside his cabin door, trying to decide whether or not to come in, that sweet aroma always came before her.

That night in the moonlight, he'd known he loved her. That he would love her forever. She gave up a life of wealth and privilege to come aboard his ship. She had learned how to sail and how to wield a sword. She had learned how to survive on a ship full of men who said bad luck followed a vessel with a woman on board. She had earned their respect, and his. And she had followed him to the ends of the earth. She fought at his side, and she fought in his stead when he could not fight for himself. In his life, so many people that he'd trusted had betrayed him. Not her. She'd held his heart in her hands for so long and never broken it. Her loyalty had been steadfast, and for that loyalty she'd died. Yesterday, he'd had the rest of his life to tell her what she meant to him. Today, she was gone. The only woman he'd ever loved was dead, and he'd never told her.

Unconsciously, his hand wiped away the tears from his face. He didn't know how long he had been crying, nor did he know if he would be able to stop. Alone on an island in the middle of the sea, he remembered a time when he had gazed out and seen his life sailing away. The emptiness then was nothing compared to the pit in his chest now. Then, he had hope. Naïve, maybe, but hope just the same. Then, he'd known he would live. He would survive if only to seek revenge on the man he had once called friend. Now, he had no one to with whom to exact revenge. His whole world was kindling and he had no one to blame but himself.

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Well, like I said horribly angsty but I hope you liked it anyway! I would appreciate any feedback on this if you wouldn't mind. I've never written from Jack's pov before, and I'm interested in your thoughts about how I did. Thanks!


	2. Home

Disclaimer: Don't own em, just like writing about them.

A/N: Alright, I know it's dangerous to work on multiple stories at once, but after re-reading "Kindling" I decided that I really didn't want it to end that way. There was more to this story and much more to be written. So I've decided to expand this a bit and I hope that comes as good news to you!

**Chapter Two "Home"**

For half of her life, she had called Kingston home, from a house in town, so that her father could be close to his practice, to a grand estate overlooking the Caribbean Sea. Despite the fact that she was never truly accepted as such, she was a member of the posh, respectable colonial society. She raised her glass to the King's health. She went to church on Sunday, and prayed for her soul. She married a man who loyally served in the Royal Navy. She had afternoon tea and biscuits just like every other Englishman in the world. For the first half of her life, she had lived as any proper British lady would live.

For the second half of her life, she had been unwelcome in Kingston, or any other civilized town for that matter. She had no King or Country. She had given her soul up for lost, killed her own husband, and traded in her pot of tea for a bottle of rum. She was a woman feared and hated by the posh, respectable society. She was a pirate. On one fateful spring morning, she had sailed away from Kingston not knowing if she would ever return. At the time, she had been a woman scorned. A man she trusted had stolen her boat and disappeared into thin air. She had gone after him in hopes of ringing his neck, but after finding him, she discovered that she was quite unable to leave him. From that day foreword, home was no longer a place. Home was a person, a man. He was her family, her life, and her world. Not that it mattered anymore, that man, her home, had been destroyed just as every aspect of her life was now destroyed.

The men of His Majesty's Navy, after mercilessly bombarding the Pearl with continuous cannon fire, had been kind enough to let their captive stand above deck and watch her last refuge sink to the bottom of the sea. She could still smell the burning wood. She could still sea the sea, stained red with the blood of her brothers in arms. She could still sea the smoke, black as the planks that blazed, billowing up towards the heavens so thick that it seemed to block out the sun's rays leaving the world shrouded in an eerie darkness. Clouds had rolled in that afternoon, blanketing the world in shadow, as though the sky itself mourned his passing, just as she mourned his passing. The sky would mourn, though, wouldn't it? He was, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow. In the still silence of her cell, she could almost hear his voice telling her as much.

Leaning her head back against the cold stone walls of Fort Arthur's hold, she made no attempt to squelch the tears. On the Navy ship sailing back towards Kingston, she had remained stoically quiet. Her life was in shambles, but she clung desperately to her pride. Now, what did her pride, or self-respect matter? Though her days were numbered, she hated the thought of spending those days alone. In her mind's eye, she had always seen herself fighting by his side, together to the last. Then, at the end of their days, they would steal into heaven before the devil knew they were gone. But, now, that wasn't going to happen. He had died alone, just as she would die alone. So, let them see her cry. Let them know what they had taken from her. Miles away in Port Royal, men would be meeting in the governor's house trying to decide if it were proper to hang a lady. They could not risk offending anyone who might gather in the square to witness the spectacle made of the demise of a pirate. She would have laughed except that the hole in her heart prevented such an action.

If she cared anymore for her own life, she would have welcomed the delay. It would have given her time to plan an escape. Not that she needed to plan much, she did have at the ready a detailed mental image of Fort Arthur. In days gone by, her brother had served at the very same fort. She knew, better than most, the fort's strengths and weaknesses seeing as she had once helped a pirate escape it's custody. Since that night, she had stood beside him battling all manner of foes, and, though he had never said the words, she knew he loved her. She could always see it in his dark, fathomless eyes.

Standing on her toes, she stared blankly out to the ocean. Her eyes automatically sought the horizon, the magical place where the heavens met the water. He had always wanted to get there, everyday of his life he had sailed towards it never once thinking it unattainable. She hoped he was there now, waiting for her.

TBC

As I said, there's much more to be told here, so I hope you'll stay with me. Leave me a review and let me know what you think!


	3. Destroyed

Disclaimer: I own nothing from PotC.

A/N: I'm so happy that you all seemed to like this story. Nobody liked it ending that way for Jack, did you ;-)

**Destroyed:**

"Admiral! Admiral! It's been done, Sir!" the Admiral's aide burst into his cabin, completely out of breath, an ear to ear grin spread across his red face.

"Mr. Bertrem, I don't need to remind you that an Admiral's time is his own, and disturbing that time requires at the very least a knock." The older officer stood with his back to the lieutenant, gazing out at Kingston's harbor. He had not been engaged in any important business, just enjoying a good glass of port and a few blessed moments of peace and quiet.

The aide bowed his head in polite embarrassment, but remained unabashed. Straightening his uniform jacket and clearing his throat, he began again, his voice more composed. "Of course, Sir, but news such as this …"

"Yes, yes, what is it?" the Admiral waved his hand, gesturing for Mr. Bertrem to get on with it. These days, he seemed to have less and less patience for the impertinence of youth.

"It's the _Black Pearl,_ Sir. She's been destroyed!" the aide fought for control, but he could not keep the excitement from his words anymore than he could keep the smile from retaking his face.

Destroyed. The word hung in the air between the seasoned Admiral and the eager young lieutenant. Gazing across the harbor, the older officer could see memories of himself at that age. Over thirty years had passed since he first enlisted in the King's Navy, set on changing the world. He had risen smartly through the ranks to become the scourge of piracy in the West Indies. The _Black Pearl_ and her Captain were the last true pirate threat in these waters. Destroyed. That one small word shot across the room and hit Admiral James Norrington with the force of a full broadside.

Slowly, the officer turned to face his aide. "Survivors?" he managed, through a suddenly dry throat.

"Only one, Sir."

"Sparrow?"

"No."

An inexplicable pang of sadness spread up from the Admiral's chest. Jack – Captain Jack Sparrow. Norrington smiled ruefully, he could afford the late pirate the meager kindness of getting his title correct, for once. The wily pirate had been a thorn in his side for the better part of his life, turning his whole world on it's ear more times than he could count. The man was a womanizer, a thief, a trickster and so many more things, but he was deep down a decent person. He was honorable and true to his word, not to mention the fact that he had the luck of the devil. Truly, he had been a worthy opponent for all these long years. So many men flying the black flag were more violent, more bloodthirsty, and certainly more threatening than Sparrow. Norrington had almost believed that there would always be something more pressing for the Royal Navy, than finally chasing down the infamous _Black Pearl_. He was almost sorry to see Sparrow's run come to an end. "Who was the one, then?"

The aide shook his head. "A woman."

The glass of port fell from the Admiral's hand, hitting the deck with a resounding crash. The young lieutenant rushed across the room to lend whatever support he could to his commanding officer. "Dear God," Norrington breathed.

Annie. Of all the woman that had passed through James' life, there had only been one Anamaria Tarret. Her father, a physician, had come to Kingston years ago, wedding a native woman. From the day of her birth, Annie's dark skin had set her apart from the proper English colonial society. She was excluded and ridiculed throughout her youth, and, if not for two overprotective big brothers, she may have grown to hate herself for her differences. Her life had not been easy, losing both parents early on, and then losing her dear brother Findley when he was sixteen and she only twelve. Later, the well-to-do women in Kingston had tolerated Annie because she had become the wife of Captain Christopher Laffley, one of the most daring, not to mention most wealthy, men in His Majesty's Navy. From that point on, Annie's life spiraled out of James' understanding. One way or another, she met Jack Sparrow and left behind the life she knew to become a member of his crew. Remembering her fire and her spirit, James wondered if she had not made a fine pirate.

"Sir, are you quite alright? Shall I send for the surgeon?"

Norrington shrugged off his aide's help. "No, I'm fine," he said. "This woman, who is she?"

The lieutenant spread his hands out in a gesture that indicated he had no idea. "Probably some girl waiting for ransom money from her rich parents," he scoffed. "She's in the hold up at Fort Arthur. Probably scared to death, but no one knew what to do with her. Some of the marines tried to convince us that she was a pirate herself, if you can believe that?"

The Admiral pressed his lips together and forced a smile. He had no wish to see Annie. They had fought on opposite sides for too long, how could their friendship have survived? She had given her heart to the pirate Captain with whom she sailed, though she'd never admitted this to anyone, maybe not even herself. No doubt, his loss was weighing heavily on her heart. Sighing, he closed his eyes. He was pleased that she had managed to avoid the notoriety that her Captain had won. "Call away my gig," Norrington instructed. "I would be interested to speak with this woman." He would let her go free. It was the least he could do.

TBC

Alright, I've never written from ol' Norry's point of view either. So, how did I do? And how did you like this chappy? Please, leave me a review before you're off.


	4. Chief

Disclaimer: PotC does not belong to me.

A/N: I know that I have left this story hanging for too long. I am so very sorry, but your patience has been rewarded by not one, but two chapters. I hope that starts to make up for my absence!

**Chief:**

Alone on one of the most beautiful white sand beaches in the West Indies, Jack Sparrow sat beside a dwindling fire. His ship had sunk below the water line early that morning. He had watched the sea for hours afterward, hoping against hope that his _Pearl_ would some out rise up again from the ashes and come rescue him. Knowing, though, that his ship was now well and truly lost, he had built a fire, more out of habit than out of a desire to keep away the cold. The scent of blazing timber swirled up to the dusky hued sky encircling Jack in a smothering blanket of loss and regret. He couldn't, however, bring himself to douse the flames. Almost as though he needed the reminder. He needed to remember what his foolhardiness had cost him. Curled up in that miserable blanket, Jack drifted off to sleep, desperately wanting never to wake.

But, wake he did only to find his hands bound behind him. He was tied to a wooden post and standing in front of a much larger fire than he had constructed. A smattering of small stick huts surrounded the bonfire. On any other day, Jack's mind would have reeled thinking instantly of escape. He would have needed to know where he was, how he came to be there, and who he would have to deal with to get away. A self depreciating smile came to the pirate's face. Who was he kidding? On any other day, no one would have been able to take Jack Sparrow in his sleep. On any other day, he would have sprung up and faced his assailant. Today, however, he had been taken, and his mind did not go to escape. His thoughts went nowhere. The legendary pirate captain simply sighed and bowed his head. He was weary and only wanted a swift end.

Movement on the opposite side of the fire attracted his attention. A slim figure now stood in the doorway of one of the huts. The man stood not much taller than Sparrow. He had dirty blonde hair and skin darkened by the sun. Naked from the waist up, he had a huge tattoo of a rose that extended from one side of his stomach across his chest to his shoulder. The man approached Jack, stopping to regard the bound pirate thoughtfully.

"You put up very little fight, sailor," he said, his voice light, colored by the memory of a French accent.

"Clearly, you have the advantage," Jack answered, all thick pirate bravado missing from his words. "Why fight when the odds are so obviously stacked against me."

The man inclined his head in a show of agreement. "Yes, I just would have expected different from the dread Captain Jack Sparrow."

"How do you know me?" For so long, he would have reveled in the infamy that allowed a man on a secluded island to recognize him. But, he no longer wanted to be recognized as Captain Jack Sparrow. He didn't even want to be Captain Jack Sparrow.

"There is only one ship that flies black sails as well as the black flag, and only one man who would be so grieved by her destruction. No?"

Jack made no reply. He closed his eyes, expecting to see the remembered images of his dear ship. Instead, however, he saw a pair of amber eyes staring back at him. He was devastated by the loss of his ship. His crew. But, in losing her, he had lost his life. "Who are you?" he said, not wanting to dwell on her anymore.

The man's light eyes descended into shadow. "My name is … Nathaniel de Chouette," he said, softly, his accent thickening as he spoke his name. "I was known to you, and the rest of the world, as Woodes Rogers."

Jack kept his face a mask of impassiveness. Captain Rogers was, himself, a legendary pirate, known far and wide, for acts of unparalleled deviousness and cruelty. Stories told of Rogers' crew cutting off the ears of their captives and forcing them to eat their own appendages. His ship, the _Duke_, had been sunk by the Navy more than four years ago. "You died …"

Nathaniel smiled dolefully. "Captain Rogers died. I was snatched back from the clutches of death by the natives of this island. The people were starving at the time. I taught them to raise farms and in gratitude they declared me their leader. So, I have been ever since."

Jack almost laughed at the irony of that statement. If she were with him, she would have laughed. How many times had he told that same story with himself playing the staring role of island chief? He never dreamed such a thing could really happen.

Nathaniel snickered quietly, seeing Jack's reaction. "Yes, Captain Sparrow, I had heard your story too." Drawing his cutlass, he walked behind Jack. With the skill of a seasoned swordsman, he swiftly brought down his blade, severing the ropes that held Sparrow captive. Coming back to face Jack, Nathaniel explained, "a man so broken by the loss of his ship is no threat to me. Feel free to enjoy the hospitality of my adopted people."

"And what would I do with said hospitality?"

The ghost of understanding haunted Nathaniel's eyes. "Your ship is lost, Captain. Your life is not."

Jack's eyes flared. "Do not pretend to understand what I have lost," he snarled. Maybe this Captain Rogers had been in Jack's shoes. Maybe he had felt the stabs in his heart for the members of his crew or a family left behind. Still, he could not know how cold the world felt without her. He could not understand what it was to yearn to hear her voice, and know it would never happen. Nathaniel de whatever his name was, could not possibly understand the pain of knowing that the one woman in the world who had been truly loved by Jack Sparrow had gone to her grave without knowing his heart.

The other man raised his brow. "Not the loss of your ship that you mourn, but the loss of one on that ship," he said.

Sparrow's black eyes threw daggers at Nathaniel.

He bowed respectfully. "Forgive me. Of course, you can do whatever you will with my offer."

"Why do you stay here?" Jack asked, hastily changing the subject.

"Penitence." Nathaniel lowered himself to sit on the sand. He stared into the fire. "There are two kinds of pirates in this world. There are the ones who fight honorably and break the law because the laws are wrong, then there are those who fight without honor and break the law for their own enjoyment," he paused. "You are one kind. I was the other. My hope is that by living out the remainder of my days as the benevolent protector of these people, I will repay some part of my debt."

Still standing, Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"When a man thinks his life is over, he has a lot of time to reflect on how he lived it. Time to contemplate mistakes he's made."

All of a sudden, her face once again flashed before Jack's eyes. Her scream, seconds before the powder magazine exploded, echoed in his ears. Her last words had been a warning to him. Her last thoughts had been for his safety. She died trying to protect the man who had sailed her to her own demise. Jack turned away from the fire. Away from the penitent pirate seated by the blaze.

"Have a look at my island," Nathaniel spoke on. "Take a walk. Listen to the sea. Watch the stars. I'll meet you in the morning. If then, you still long for death … I will bring it to you."

TBC

Please don't forget to review!


	5. Apology

Disclaimer: I still don't own PotC.

**Apology:**

Still staring out towards the horizon, Anamaria heard keys jingling in the lock of the cell door. Slowly, she brought a trembling hand to her throat. Rubbing her skin, she wondered how long it would be until the hemp rope hung from her neck. For years, Ana had lived the life of a pirate. She had faced so many battles at sea, any of which could have taken her life. Still, she never felt so close to the reaper as she did in this moment. Before, she had always faced death with her Captain at her side. Now, she face the hangman's noose, alone. She would stand in the center of Kingston's town square, in front of men and women who were at one time her neighbors and friends, and listen to a record of her crimes read aloud. Alone.

"Someone to see you, Miss."

Ana took a steadying breath. Someone come to gloat over the defeat of the _Black Pearl_, no doubt.

"That will be all," astern voice dismissed the marine guard.

"Aye, Sir." The guard disappeared and the visitor stepped into Ana's cell.

"Anamaria."

"James," Ana greeted, in spite of the lump growing in her throat. Hard enough that she had to face the honorable people of Kingston. She had to face the man who had been friend to her, and her family, for years. Ana turned and stared into the familiar blue eyes of Admiral James Norrington. Ever since he had joined the Royal Navy, James had sought to end piracy in the West Indies. He had very nearly succeeded, and now with the _Pearl_ gone, hardly any pirates remained to stand in his way. He had won. She and Jack had lost.

Norrington stared evenly into her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Sorry?" Ana repeated the word. "Sorry for what, completely destroying the only home I had left or sorry that you're going to have to hang me?" She knew that their friendship had probably brought James to her cell. An Admiral would not normally lower himself to visit pirates in prison. Perhaps he wanted to see what matter of creature she had become, or maybe he just wanted to say "goodbye." Not that his motives really made any difference. He was the face of the law in Kingston, and he would ultimately be responsible for her execution.

"Annie lower your voice," he said, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. "I have no intention of hanging you."

"Losing your nerve," she goaded, not caring that her words were unnecessarily spiteful.

James sighed. "The crew that pulled you from the … wreckage thinks that you were a prisoner aboard the _Black Pearl._"

"I wasn't," Ana said, putting her hands on her hips. Did James know what he was asking her to do? Now, after watching her whole life, quite literally, go up in flames, he was asking her to deny that life. He was asking her to deny everyone who had been a part of that life. The crew, good men, had gone to Davy Jones' Locker defending that life, that freedom. How could she cheapen their sacrifice, Jack's sacrifice, by lying about who she was?

"I know that, but –"

"But, nothing."

"Damn it, Annie, haven't enough people died!" James pursed his lips and took a deep breath, having just committed the unspeakable act of cursing in the presence of a lady. Never mind that the lady was a pirate.

Ana bowed her head, suddenly seeing kohl-lined eyes staring back at her from the floor. Norrington was right. Enough people had died. The one man who's spirit she believed would never die was gone. What purpose would her death serve? She shook her head. What purpose would her life serve, without Jack? As his first mate, she had lived for him for so long. She had loved him for so long.

"Annie, what I meant was … that I'm sorry about … about Sparrow."

For a second, Ana's eyes flashed angrily at the thought of James presuming to know who Jack had been to her. What he had meant to her. Then, her expression softened. James may not have understood her feelings for the pirate Captain, but he did know that she loved Jack Sparrow, and he was sincere in his sympathies.

James stared past Ana, out to the harbor and the fast setting sun. "I never thought it would end like this," he said. "Much as I wanted to beat him, I always thought that Sparrow would outlive us all and die an old man lying on some beach drinking rum."

Ana smiled sadly at the mental image conjured up by James' words. She could see Jack reclining in the sun, bottle in hand. She had always hoped to be sitting next to him on that beach. "I miss him, already," she said, letting the tears slip from her eyes.

Turning back to the lady, Norrington placed his hand on her cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb. "What will you do?"

"I have no ship and no money. I have no idea," Ana said, for the first time contemplating the rest of her life. She hardly had the desire to join another crew and stay a pirate. She had only turned to that life to be with Jack. She had learned to tend wounds from her father, perhaps she could live out her days as a nurse. But, would society accept her anymore? Did she even want to be a part of the "respectable" community?

"No need to figure it out right away," James said. "Come to the house, stay with us, for now."

"James, I – "

"I insist," he said. "Consider my hospitality an Admiral's humble apology."

TBC

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	6. Upside Down

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything from PotC.

A/N: Thank you ever so much for all of the reviews!

Chapter Six: "Upside Down"

"She looks different. Doesn't she?" Elizabeth asked in a hushed voice, as she stood with James outside the parlor watching their guest worriedly.

Anamaria sat on the davenport, gazing absently out the window. If she were aware of the couple's scrutiny, she made no move to show it. Elizabeth was right. Annie had looked in a daze during the whole carriage ride. She had not spoken a word since James had led her from the cell at Fort Arthur. She not only looked different, she was different, older somehow. James shook his head, sighing. Maybe the life of a pirate had kept her young, just as it had kept her happy. Maybe Sparrow had kept her young.

"The _Black Pearl_ is gone," Norrington said, turning to his wife. "Not captured, or boarded. Gone."

"And Jack …"

"Gone with her," James finished.

Elizabeth bowed her head. "Funny, isn't it," she started quietly. "You can go through life knowing that everyone has to die someday and still be so shocked when in actually happens."

James regarded his wife. Even without her saying so, he knew she was thinking about Will. The young blacksmith had been her first love, and, James knew, Will would be her last love. James had never known his wife's reasons for saying goodbye to Mr. Turner. Elizabeth never spoke of it, and he never asked. All he knew was that whenever Will was mentioned her eyes clouded with memory.

Elizabeth Swann had married James Norrington in the most lavish wedding ceremony Port Royal had ever seen. When he had been promoted to Admiral, she happily moved with him to Kingston and took on the duties of an Admiral's wife. She bore him a beautiful daughter and a strong son, who she named John, no doubt after a certain pirate. She was the very model of a perfect wife, and she had indeed grown to love her husband. But, she had never needed to grow to love Will. That had just happened. And, when news of his death reached their door, her conflicted heart had broken. She probably knew what Annie was feeling. Maybe they could help each other.

"You've known her a long time, haven't you?" Elizabeth asked.

James nodded, remembering the first time he'd ever seen Anamaria Tarret, decked out in a spectacular blue dress at Admiral Fornin's annual Christmas ball. Her golden brown eyes had glowed and her perfectly improper laughter lit up a room. From that night on, their paths crossed often, due to the fact that her older brother was also in the King's Navy. Though James never admitted it at the time, he always looked forward to running into Captain Tarret's vivacious sister. Four years after meeting her, James had attended her wedding.

"She used to be very wealthy didn't she?"

"Her family was always comfortable," Norrington answered. "She married Christopher Laffley, then became very comfortable." Another thing James never admitted to was the inexplicable sadness he felt sitting in that church watching Annie marry another. She would have been a most improper match for him, being only half English and half native Jamaican. But Anamaria had always been a dreamer. She challenged James and his traditional way of thinking. Long before he let Jack Sparrow escape a hanging in Port Royal, Annie had tried to convince him that a man could not be judged only by his occupation. When he finally did give Sparrow his day's head start, James knew he did it in part because Annie would have killed him if he stood by and watched Sparrow's execution.

"What was she like back then?"

Norrington smiled sadly. "Not all that different, actually. She was a pirate ages before she sailed off with Sparrow." James' eyes narrowed as he watched Annie just sitting in the parlor. Elizabeth had given the lady pirate one of her old gowns and, with a little imagination, she almost looked like she had all those years ago, before she had run away with Jack Sparrow.

"Is that why you loved her?"

"Elizabeth!" So shocked was he by his wife's question, James completely forgot to whisper. In the parlor, Ana turned to see the couple standing in the hallway. Rising from her seat, she came to greet Elizabeth. James could not have been more thankful. He was so appalled by Elizabeth's question, and so grateful that he would not be required to answer it.

"Hello, Mrs. Norrington," Ana said, nodding her head politely.

"Ana," Elizabeth replied. "I was so happy to hear you'd be staying with us. I'm only sorry your stay couldn't have been under more pleasant circumstances."

One side of Ana's mouth turned up into a smile that did not reach her eyes. A knock at the door interrupted any further conversation. James excused himself to see who their guest could be, and he was more than a little relieved to be away from the prying eyes of his wife and the sad, empty eyes of Annie Tarret. He loved Elizabeth, but sometimes that woman filled her head with the most absurd ideas. Him, in love with Annie. That was preposterous, he told himself trying to forget that only moments earlier he had been thinking on what kind of a wife Annie would have made.

"Admiral," a man wearing a Captain's uniform greeted with professional courtesy.

"Captain Gillette," Norrington answered. "What brings you out to my home?"

"May I come in?"

"Of course," James stepped aside, wondering how exactly he was going to explain Annie to Gillette. He doubted his subordinate would understand the Admiral of the West Indies inviting a pirate into his home.

Gillette, walking in front of James, stopped abruptly and removed his hat. "My apologies," he said, seeing Annie. "I was unaware that you were already entertaining. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" he asked, looking back to Norrington as though he suspected something was amiss about the Admiral's female guest.

James cleared his throat. "May I introduce Anamaria … Laffley," he said, using the name of Annie's late husband.

Annie shot James a glare, and he got the feeling he would soon pay for this one. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she looked at James, obviously wondering what he was up to. Gillette's mouth dropped open slightly. Eyes wide, he turned back to the lady. "Captain Christopher Laffley's widow?" he stammered. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you." He took Annie's hand, planting a kiss on her wrist. "Your husband did his country proud," he added.

Pulling her hand away from Gillette, Annie's eyes flashed with their former fire. "Did you know my husband?" she said, her voice steely.

"No, ma'am. He died very soon after I entered the King's service."

"Then how would you know how well he served his country?"

Gillette's eyes went wide for a second time. James allowed himself to smile. To say the least, Gillette was very unaccustomed to hearing a woman speak the way Annie spoke. "Um … well, everyone knows who Captain Laffley was, ma'am."

"Oh, I doubt that," Annie said, raising her eyebrow.

"Surely the two of you have business to discuss," Elizabeth broke in. "We'll leave you to it," she said, taking Annie gently by the arm and leading her away, no doubt in an effort to prevent her from smacking Captain Gillette upside the head.

"Yes, Captain," Norrington said, as the ladies left. "What was it you wanted?"

"I was under the impression that one of the pirates from the _Black Pearl_ was being held at Fort Arthur, but when I visited the fort, they said there were no prisoners in the hold," Gillette crossed his arms in front of his chest, wearing a self-satisfied grin.

Norrington rolled his eyes. Ever since he had let Sparrow escape the noose, Gillette had been after his job. When Norrington had been promoted, Gillette was beside himself. He could not understand why a man who "let pirates just walk in and out of Port Royal" could possible deserve to be in charge of the whole fleet. James had responded to Gillette's opposition by sending him the worst assignments in the Caribbean. "A woman was pulled from the wreck," he said, in his best condescending aristocratic voice. "A hostage, most likely."

"Likely, but did you question her?"

"Captain Gillette, if you want to harass women, that is your business. I prefer to act the part of a gentleman."

Gillette nodded curtly, knowing full well that Norrington had just dismissed him. James watched as he walked out, doubtless biting down on his tongue, and found himself thinking that if Gillette wanted this job so badly, he could just go ahead and take it. Shaking his head, James went to find the ladies. Never before had he even imagined himself not wearing the uniform and serving in the Royal Navy. Anamaria certainly had a habit of turning his life completely upside down.

TBC

Please Review!


	7. Longing

Disclaimer: Don't we all know by now, that I'm not lucky enough to own PotC?

Chapter Seven: "Longing"

Lying on his back, staring up at hundreds of thousands of stars, Jack Sparrow could almost forget the horror that had become his life. He was trying to forget. But, he could not. He had spent too many years navigating his beloved _Black Pearl_ by those stars. He had spent too many night watches, with her by his side, gazing out at those very same stars. He could still see the way their twinkling light had reflected in her eyes. He could hear her voice, telling the stories of the constellations. Stories of gods and goddesses, monsters and heroes. She had never told the crew anything about her past. She never disclosed that she had been an educated aristocrat from Kingston. The tales spun about her beginnings were almost as fantastic as the stories she told about the stars, but she never bothered to set the record straight.

Only he knew her for the lady she had once been. The lady who had stood defiantly in her garden, when he had been attempting to rob her blind, and told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to leave empty handed. He had just escaped from one of the most horrible prisons in the Caribbean. He was wounded, and had no ship and no plan. She had cared for his injuries and ended up helping him getaway from the very tyrant who had imprisoned him, all without thought for her own safety or reputation. No one had ever done something like that for him, before or since, and what had she gotten in return for her selflessness? A thankless life of danger on a pirate ship captained by a man who could not even tell her what she meant to him.

The countless stars above began to fade with the light of the rising sun. He could see the break between the water and the sky that he had chased for so many years. The former Captain Rogers' words came back to him. "_I'll meet you in the morning. If then, you still long for death … I will bring it to you."_ Death. His whole life up until this point, had been spent in a desperate struggle to cheat death. The reaper had come to him many times in the form of a bullet, a sword or a noose, but always he had managed to barely escape with his life. How many times had he faced insurmountable odds, only to come out on top? Now, fate had played a cruel trick. The one time that he would have happily followed his crew to their dark watery grave, still he survived.

He was vaguely aware of someone approaching from behind, but he made to move to acknowledge the intrusion. A basket of fruit was set on the sand next to him. "I did not think you would want this, but …" the French accented voice trailed off as Nathaniel situated himself next to Jack. The blonde pirate's eyes were also fixated across the waves on the horizon. Long moments passed, before he spoke up again. "A woman sailed with me on the _Duke_," he said, his voice quiet and far away. "Not by my choosing. She hid in my cabin while I was ashore, and when I discovered her, she refused to leave. She was just a whore, with whom I'd spent a few nights, but she was the only person who ever saw anything worthwhile in Woodes Rogers."

Jack stared at Nathaniel as he recalled his story. The only woman who saw the good in a dread pirate. The tale sounded familiar, but why had this pirate decided to share his story? Was Jack so transparent? Was his grief so obvious? A pair of amber eyes materialized over the water. Yes, his misery was probably painted on his face, he thought, beating down the lump that was rising up in his throat.

"I treated her terribly, of course," Nathaniel went on, bitter memory coloring his words. "What she saw and why she stayed, I'll never know, but stay she did. I used her for what I had always used her, nothing more. One night, a few of the crew came for her, and I let them. She cried out for me to save her, but I did nothing … I found her the next morning, my own sword plunged in her breast." The man laughed depreciatingly. "How's that for symbolism?"

Jack remained silent, knowing Nathaniel did not expect him to answer.

"We threw her body over the side and raised a glass to getting rid of a thorn in our sides … but, the bed where she used to lay with me was colder, and my cabin was emptier without her."

"Why tell me this?" Jack asked, fighting against the void in his own heart.

The French pirate met Jack's gaze, understanding in his eyes. "A ship, no matter how fast or how beautiful, can be replaced," he said. "A woman cannot."

Nathaniel's words burned Jack's ears, blazing their way down to his chest and exploding in a flash of consuming fire. A pain more agonizing than any physical injury flared up from his heart, scorching his whole body. He burned with hatred for the man sitting next to him, complete hatred for a man who saw straight through him and pretended to understand. The death of this whore was nothing like losing Anamaria. He was infuriated by the comparison. Woodes Rogers never cared for this woman, he said so himself. Jack loved Ana. Everyday since meeting her, he had loved her.

_But you never told her._

The blonde pirate's lips had not moved. He hadn't said a word, but Jack heard the accusation loud and clear. The words thundered inside of his head, and sliced through his anger like a bullet. Jack clenched his jaw. Had Anamaria felt as neglected as that whore. Had she gone to her grave thinking that Jack cared nothing for her?

"Forgive me, Captain Sparrow," Nathaniel rose from the beach. "I digress. I only came down to ask you if you've made your decision."

Jack, too, stood up. He turned his back to Nathaniel, in an effort to hide the emotions that he doubted he could keep from his face.

"Do you still long for death?" the French pirate, repeated the question.

Hearing the sound of steel emerging from the scabbard at Nathaniel's side, Jack lowered his head. His shoulders sagged. He knew what she would say. She would curse him for a coward, slap him on the face, and tell him that death was the easy way out. She would be right. Dying would be a thousand times easier than living with only her memory to keep him warm at night. Death would be so much simpler than starting a new life, alone. But, did he truly want to die? "No," he heard himself answer.

A blade re-sheathed behind him, and he felt Nathaniel's hand on his shoulder. "Then come, I have something to show you."

Jack let the older pirate lead him through the trees, and the tiny village, to the other side of the island. Dark skinned natives, naked as the day they were born, fished in the protected harbor. Women made meals around fires, and small children ran back and forth at the edge of the water. And, out a ways from the shore, bobbed a single-masted fishing boat.

"I always thought, someday I would leave these people. Go back to my old life," Nathaniel's hand dropped from Jack's shoulder. "But, I can build another boat, if that is what I really want."

Jack swallowed, having no idea what to say.

"Perhaps, she can take you somewhere that you will not feel so alone."

"Thank you," Jack said, finally. "But, I don't know if such place exists."

Nathaniel shrugged, pulling a bone-handled knife from his belt. Handing it to Jack, he said, "at least try to find it, before you seek oblivion."

TBC

Ooh, the angst. Well, sorry this update took a bit longer, I hope it was worth the wait. Please, don't forget to leave me a review before you move on.


	8. Invitation

Disclaimer: I own nothing from PotC.

**Invitation:**

A party at the governor's house, why on God's green earth had she agreed to go to a party? Anamaria scowled as she slipped into one of the gowns that Elizabeth had loaned her. A fancy ball, surrounded by Kingston's proper society sounded about as enticing as a firing squad. She knew the party was in honor of Elizabeth's birthday, and it was only polite to show consideration for the woman who's hospitality she was imposing upon. She also knew that she could not shut herself up in the guest room and let the rest of her life pass her by. The _Pearl_ was gone, but Ana had survived. She was spared the sweet repose that claimed her Captain for a reason. She would have to discover that reason and live enough for both of them. But, it was too soon. She needed time to adjust, time to mourn. She had to decide if she wanted to sail back to Tortuga and join up with another ship, or simply slip back into a life of aristocratic privilege that she gave up a hundred years ago. Neither prospect held much allure at this point..

Sighing, Ana began to pin up her long black hair, an action she had performed but once in the last fifteen years. She smiled ruefully remembering the last time. She and Jack had decided to attend the governor's farewell party in Port Royal, just before the government offices were relocated to Kingston. Jack, in his customary cavalier fashion, had said that less law enforcement in any port was reason to celebrate, and Ana liked the idea of two pirates mingling with "proper" society. So, they'd borrowed clothes from some passengers on a ship bound for England, and a nice couple at the docks had been kind enough to lend the pair of buccaneers horses, carriage, and their driver. Ana danced with Jack well into the morning and no one in Port Royal was any the wiser, not even James Norrington.

Walking arm in arm with Jack into one of the most posh events in years had been a fantasy fulfilled. Tagging along with James and Elizabeth to the stodgy governor's house was strangely akin to nightmares she'd had. She was hardly the woman that James remembered anymore. Too many years cursing and drinking alongside of pirates and whores had left their mark. Besides that, she could still see the reluctant look on Elizabeth's face when she had invited Ana to attend the party. The two women had never really been friends, even before Elizabeth ripped out Will's heart and exchanged vows with James.

A light knock sounded at the door. "Yes," Anamaria said, unable to hide the irritation in her voice. She wasn't so much irritated by the interruption, she was irritated because she hadn't the nerve to tell James and Elizabeth exactly what they could do with their invitation to the governor's house. What kind of pirate would allow herself to be dragged off to a party against her will? Ana shook her head, she could almost hear Jack laughing at her. "Come in," she called.

Standing in front of the full length mirror, the lady pirate took in her appearance. Her spades of raven black hair were perfectly piled on top of her head, held in place by a myriad of pins. Small yellow flowers were strategically placed throughout her locks, to accent the pale color of her gown. Despite hard years at sea, Ana's body still poured perfectly into the corseted gown, curves in just the right places. The lines worn into her face by the wind and the waves seemed only to accentuate her exotic beauty. Elizabeth stood, open mouthed, in the doorway.

Ana crossed her arms, further annoyed by the surprised expression on the younger woman's face. "You seem to forget, Mrs. Norrington, that I had your life once," Ana said, her voice stony and cold. "Just because I left that life behind, doesn't mean I cannot manage to dress myself appropriately."

Elizabeth seemed at a loss for words. "Of course," she managed.

Ana rolled her amber eyes, and moved passed the stunned Admiral's wife. She did not really mean to be curt with Elizabeth, but this whole charade she was acting out was preposterous. She was preparing to go eat, drink, and be merry only days after she'd watch her home sink beneath the Caribbean sea. She should have refused this invitation, but she hadn't, and now she was stuck with her mistake. "I'll be downstairs when you and your husband are ready to leave."

"You don't like me very much, do you?" the blonde woman said softly, misinterpreting Ana's frustration.

The pirate halted in the doorway, her back to Elizabeth. The younger woman's words were low and quiet, but Ana had heard them with perfect clarity. Biting her bottom lip, Ana fought the urge to congratulate the governor's daughter on her perceptiveness. She was a guest in Elizabeth's house and no good could come from arguing with her hostess. Still, one thing Ana had learned from her years of piracy was how much she detested being polite. Squaring her jaw, she turned back to face Elizabeth. "I've known James for a long time," she started. "He's a good man who didn't deserve a marriage of convenience to a woman who does not love him."

The younger woman raised her chin.

"And, in case you'd forgotten," Ana went on. "I sailed with your Mr. Turner. He didn't deserve what he got from you either." Ana's words seemed to carry more venom than the Admiral's wife had been expecting. She didn't reply.

Maybe she had been cruel, but Ana could still remember the day that she and Jack had found Will in Tortuga, drowning Elizabeth's memory in a sea of grog. Jack had been beside himself at the sight of hisfriend's son, so deep in despair. They brought Will back to the _Pearl,_ and her magic seemed to have breathed life back into the boy's broken heart. If only the spell could have lasted. A part of Jack died the day they buried Will, and Ana had to admit that she partially blamed Elizabeth for the days and nights that Jack had spent in his cabin, refusing to see anyone. Ana recalled wondering if the pain of another loss would finally be too much for the pirate Captain to bear. Blinking away horrible memories, Ana nodded brusquely and again turned to leave.

"I loved Will very much, but it never could have worked between us," Elizabeth said suddenly.

Ana stopped. Again, she to faced the governor's daughter. Hands on her hips, she waited for the woman's explanation.

"I mean, look at you and Jack" she said, spreading out her hands.

The pirate's eyebrow rose, warningly.

"You forsook your whole life to follow him to sea. Did he ever so much as tell you that he loved you?"

The lady pirate saw red. Without a second's hesitation, Ana slapped Elizabeth full on the side of the face. "Do not presume to compare your relationship with Will to what Jack and I had," she spat.

Hand on her cheek, Elizabeth gaped at Ana. "I'm sorry," she said, her words clouded by disbelief. Apparently, she had forgotten with whom she was dealing. Pirate or not, Ana had never been a woman to suffer fools, nor anyone who would make such foolish comments. Ana crossed her arms, clenching her jaw, and made no indication that she accepted Elizabeth's apology. Shrugging, the blonde woman seemed to give up on hearing kind words from the pirate. "If it's any consolation," she started. "James isn't in love with me, either."

Ana scoffed, her dark brows elevating. "You must be kidding," she said. "That man has been at your feet since he first laid eyes on you. He practically kisses the ground you walk on."

Now, Elizabeth laughed. "Second best, maybe," she said. "The only woman who ever had his heart was you."

The wind seemed to rush out from Ana's lungs. James Norrington loved her? Elizabeth had to be joking. "What?" Ana gasped. Her only answer was a sheer look of panic on Elizabeth's face. She had not meant to say those words. They had slipped out in a moment of heated argument. The lady pirate's mouth hung open, and she could not do a thing about it. She had been friends with James since she was fifteen years old. Never once had she suspected that James felt that way about her. Never once had he voiced his affections, assuming that he had any affections.

Elizabeth lowered her eyes. "I'll be downstairs," she mumbled. "Whenever you're ready …" her voice trailed off as she hurried from the room, leaving Ana alone with the woman in the mirror. The woman that James Norrington loved.

TBC

Alright, I'd love to know what you think of this little twist. Please don't go without leaving me a review!


	9. Indiscretion

Disclaimer: I own nothing from PotC.

A/N: Thank you so so very much for the kind reviews. Please, keep them coming!

**Indiscretion:**

Sipping more champagne than he normally would have allowed himself, James Norrington stepped out of the governor's crowded ballroom into the peaceful seclusion of the garden. He had been drunk very few times in his life, discipline had always prohibited him from drinking to excess, and usually, he simply did not have the desire to take leave of his senses in such a way. Tonight, however, something was different. He'd had the strong desire for a good stiff drink ever since the eager young officer had burst into his cabin and reported the sinking of the _Black Pearl_. Hard to believe that was only a matter of hours ago. He'd been enjoying a drink then. Port. The blessed liquid, however, had quite literally slipped through his fingers when he'd heard the news concerning the _Pearl's_ one survivor. Norrington had expected Sparrow's name to be on his aide's lips. Instead, it was a woman who survived and the pirate she loved who went to a watery grave.

James had been forced to work in close proximity with the _Pearl_'s perpetually drunk Captain more times than he cared to recall. Always against his will. Still, each time, the pirate became less of a menace and more of a decent human being. Grudgingly, Norrington had to admit that he respected Sparrow, despite the pirate's chosen profession. Of course, he'd never said as much to Jack. Maybe he wanted to drink a final toast to a worthy adversary and a man who had deserved more respect than James had ever given him.

Then again, James could want to drink to quell the surge of feelings brought up by the reappearance of Anamaria Tarret. Elizabeth's accusation still rang in his ears. His own wife thought he loved another woman –

James' fevered thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the woman in question suddenly came into view. Her borrowed silver gown glowed in the soft moonlight. Her ebony hair shone, and her eyes sparkled. Could anyone know such beauty and not love her? Emerging from the shadows, James came to stand at Anamaria's shoulder. She made no move, said not a word. So still, she could have been made of glass … or stone.

"A beautiful night," James said, uncomfortable with the silence.

"Is it?"

He could not see the lady's face, but he did see her proud chin lower slightly, her shoulders sag. Norrington's heart broke for her, feeling so alone in the world. She loved Jack Sparrow. She had loved him since the first, when she broke the law to protect him. At the time, James had been furious, not understanding how she could compromise herself for a pirate. He did not understand, that is, until he'd bent the rules for Annie. She had been in danger, and suddenly something had mattered more than his duty to King and Country. After that, he'd tried to be angry with her, with himself, but he couldn't. Annie's brother, a man who had once been one of James' closest friends, was the one who finally convinced him that a commission could not be the most important thing in a man's life. He'd told James that only another person should be that important. Ironically enough, Annie's brother, Prescott, had given up his career in the Royal Navy to save a man's life, a man who had become a brother to him, Jack Sparrow.

It had been Prescott's words and Annie's happiness in James' mind when he let Sparrow escape the noose in Port Royal. Seeing Annie as he saw her now, he never could have lived with himself if he'd hanged Jack and been the cause of her pain. Norrington hadn't ever told anyone his true reasons for setting Sparrow free. So much easier to let everyone believe that his feelings for Elizabeth had been his motivation. Easier than admitting there was another woman out in the world that he loved even though she did not love him back. Thinking again on his wife's accusation, James sighed. He had not been so appalled by the notion of having deep feelings for someone else. He had been shocked that Elizabeth _knew_ he felt this way for another woman; the woman, standing just in front of him, in the moonlight.

"It is one night," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "The first of many …" he let the phrase trail off. She knew what he meant. The first of many nights without Jack Sparrow. The first of many nights in which she would have to find some other reason for living.

Annie turned to face James. She was frowning, and her amber eyes were moist. In those eyes, James could see dozens of battles, heartaches, and losses. In her eyes, he saw things he was accustomed to seeing in the eyes of a world weary Admiral, not a lovely woman. For the first time, in a long time, Anamaria Tarret looked her age. "I can't be here," she said. "Not now."

James nodded his understanding. In truth, he had been shocked when she agreed to come to Elizabeth's birthday at all. She started to leave. "Let me walk you back to the house," he offered.

Her dark brow rose. She almost smiled. "I think I can handle anything the dark alleyways of Port Royal has to offer," she said.

Norrington could feel his cheeks color slightly. "Of course," he said, remembering that, while Ana had never been a particularly delicate woman, she certainly was not in any peril after more than twenty years flying the black flag. James had to admit that he would not want to cross blades with her for fear of losing. "I was only offering my company. Perhaps it is you who could offer me protection," he said, making a weak attempt at a jest.

She laughed, quiet and sad, but still a laugh. She took his proffered arm, and they walked back to the house he shared with Elizabeth in silence. Not until he held open the front door for her, did James dare to speak. "I'm sorry," he said. "We shouldn't have expected you to go tonight. It was too much, too soon."

One corner of the lady's mouth lifted. "You should get back. You're wife will be missing you," she said in place of accepting his apology.

Norrington rolled his eyes. "I doubt it," he chuckled. "Elizabeth is in her element at these parties."

Annie's eyes languorously rose to meet his. She said nothing, but every hair on the back of James' neck stood on end. Never had she looked at him in such a way. Something behind her tawny eyes completely disarmed him. Her lips parted as though she meant to speak, but no sound came. She stepped closer and placed her hand on the side of his face. James almost gasped at the unexpected touch. Her hand slid around to the back of his head. Her fingers gripped his hair as she pulled his face close to hers. Before he was aware of what was happening, Annie's lips were crushed against his. Her tongue was inside of his mouth.

Everything in Norrington's mind rebelled, opposed to this situation. He knew that this woman who's breast was pressed against his body was grieving. She was lonely, and scared to be alone. Yesterday, she had lost everything. Today, she had to figure out how to pick up what was left of her life and move on. His arms encircled her slender form, pulling her body closer. He kissed her back, passionately, drinking her desire and her need. He knew Anamaria was not in love with him. She was looking for one night's comfort, that was all.

He knew he was a married man, who had given his word to forsake all others. He knew that every time, after this night, when he looked into his wife's eyes, he would see Anamaria. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, his own hand trailed down her back. His lips consumed her neck, tasting every inch of the soft, supple skin. He knew that some day Elizabeth would see his indiscretion in his own eyes. James Norrington knew all of these things as he lifted the dark-hued lady pirate off of her feet and carried her to his bedroom. He knew, but he didn't care.

TBC


	10. Tortuga

Disclaimer: I own nothing from PotC.

**Chapter 10 "Tortuga"**

Tortuga. Constructed on the hills that sprung up from a protected, secluded harbor, the ramshackle town had turned into one of the busiest, and seediest, ports in the West Indies. A thousand settlements sprung up in the West Indies in the same fashion, but due to the easily overlooked bay and the proximity to trade routes, Tortuga's shores were the last refuge for criminals, fugitives, and especially pirates. In a town where each man's business was his own, no questions were asked, and no personal information was volunteered. Escaped prisoners ran the local shops. Men once destined for the noose operated the taverns, and every woman that wandered the crowded streets was a "professional" in one way or another. To an outsider, no one in Tortuga was worth the dirt that covered the town's winding roads, but to a brigand with a price on his head Tortuga was the pot of gold at the end of a very dangerous rainbow.

The rowdy village existed in a state constant turmoil. Hardly anyone called this matchless locale home. Buccaneers passed through briefly to refit before returning to the open seas to rape, pillage and plunder. Convicts on the lam lurked only long enough to secure passage on any outbound vessel. The Navy's most wanted laid low until the servants of the Crown had given up their search.

Very few people came to Tortuga with any intention of staying. Even fewer could trace their lineage to the founders of the raucous town. Those who did come to stay were legends in their own right and everyone passing through knew their names. One-eyed George McKinney, one of the deadliest men in the Caribbean, even after loss of his eye and his right leg, tended bar at the Lady Fate, his saloon by the docks. Spanish Rose graced George's stage every night. Rusty Cutter, one of the few pirates who lived to see retirement, was master of the harbor, and Scarlet Quinn ran the Lonely Sailor, the most celebrated brothel in the region. No one made port in Tortuga without paying a visit to one of her famous citizens. At one time, Scarlet would have topped that list. However, after the lady took up with a one-armed pirate with a jealous bone and a lightning fast temper, she was able to merely own the Lonely Sailor instead of "operating" in it.

On a nearby ridge, mournfully watching over the sins of the city below, stood a lonely white building. A steeple rose towards heaven in a silent plea for the souls of those living in debauchery. The Spanish missionary priest, who'd said Mass every Sunday for the past eight years, was widely regarded as a man who'd lost his wits. Outside the forgotten sanctuary lay the most densely populated area on the island. The town where rabble from all corners of the globe converged boasted the largest graveyard of any settlement in the West Indies. The dingy, weed-filled cemetery sprung up around the church and now spread clear to a ridge overlooking the sea. Funerals were nonexistent, friends and family of Tortuga's deceased had likely denounced or given them up for dead long before the reaper actually came knocking. The only memorial service anyone in town could recall was held for a blacksmith who'd gone to the grave far too soon. The headstones were nothing more than wooded crosses erected by the Spaniard or maybe a whore who happened to give a damn. Most had no names, or dates for no one knew enough about anyone in Tortuga to know who'd come there to die. Two crosses on the edge ridge in clear view of the harbor did have names. The same name. Turner. Both had been carved by the same grieving pirate.

The very same pirate stood in the gloomy cemetery, head bowed, in front of three wooden crosses. The newest addition bore a carving, but no name. It simply read "My Love." She deserved so much more. She deserved hundreds of mourners with tears in their eyes, beautiful flowers and voices raised in song. She deserved a eulogy from a grieving crew and Captain. She deserved a solemn priest reading from a black bible, and a granite sculpture built to commemorate the life of an exceptional pirate, and a truly great woman. Concealing the knife he'd used to fashion his final declaration, the pirate trudged away from her cross. She'd deserved to hear him voice that declaration, at least once.

The man's weary gait halted in front of the church's open door. The door always stood open as an invitation for lost sheep. He doubted anyone ever accepted that invite. Not knowing why, the pirate climbed the crumbling stone steps. He paused at the threshold for a split second before entering. Nothing happened, despite the number of times he'd been told that God would strike him down if he'd dared to enter a place of worship. He wondered briefly if God still knew about this church. Thick dust covered the pews and aisles. Silence, dense and heavy hung in the air. To the pirate's left, stood rows upon rows of candles, most were lit. Their flickering light symbolixed a prayer for someone's soul. Quickly and quietly, the pirate lit a candle and exited the building. She deserved more, but he'd never given it to her in life and, now, he didn't know how to give it to her in death.

Head still bowed, he walked down the road that led back to town. Darkness was descending and the streets were coming to life. Warm lights in the tavern windows offered a meal and a drink to anyone who stumbled inside. Warm beds inside the bordellos offered pleasure to anyone with enough gold or silver. The pirate refused both offers. He avoided Tortuga's south side and continued north.

The north section of town stood, appropriately enough, at the end of Tortuga's main road. Most of the village's visitors never bothered to explore this far, finding everything they needed much closer to the harbor. Here the taverns served watered down grog to men who'd drank so much they couldn't tell the difference anymore. Here the whores, who's cruel lives were clearly etched on their faces, gave men whatever they wanted in a dark alley instead of between satin sheets. Here men died and weren't found for days. People on Tortuga's north side clutched desperately to the end of their ropes, not yet ready for anyone to erect a sad, wooden cross over their unidentified remains.

In day's gone by, Captain Jack Sparrow of the illustrious _Black Pearl,_ would never have wandered these streets. The proud pirate would have perched on the bar in the most crowded pub by the harbor and told tales of unparalleled adventure and danger on the high seas. Dozens of sailors would have bought him drinks and just as many women would have offered their bed, free of charge. At some point, Scarlet would come in and slap him silly for failing to visit her. His sailing master, Gibbs, would be playing games of chance, and losing. His mute boatswain, Cotton, would be letting his parrot drink rum. And, his first mate would be reclining in a corner booth, listening to his stories with a sly smirk on her face, for, she knew the truth behind the fairytales.

Not tonight.

This night, the arrogant Captain Jack Sparrow was still out at sea, somewhere. In his stead was a broken man with slumped shoulders who looked a lot like Captain Sparrow.

He didn't know, or care, where he was headed. His only thought was to get as far from her haunting memory as possible, to find some warmth in a world that was suddenly so cold. A whore, whose good looks had been devastated by her profession, sauntered towards him. Her eyes were unfeeling, clouded by the laudanum she probably took to dull the pain. Hands with grimy nails pawed at him, leading him towards a nearby alley. The pirate put up little resistance as the soiled dove pinned him against a stack of barrels and began unbuttoning his breeches. He closed his eyes as she knelt in front of him. He closed his eyes longing for warmth and hoping to forget.

The pirate's heart protested, but his body responded. The whore rose to her feet. Leaning over one of the barrels, she hitched up the back of her skirt and offered herself to the pirate. Standing behind her, he did what was expected, but the woman's ravaged body held no warmth or respite. He let her guide his hands to her withered breast. He buried his face in her tangled hair, but her body remained cold. He just wanted to lose himself, but before he could try anything else a hand grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him off of the whore. Spinning him around, the hand let go of his collar, clenched in a fist, and slugged the pirate square in the jaw. The woman let out a startled yelp as her companion hit the dirt.

"Get out of here," a deep, gravelly voice demanded, and the woman skittered away into the darkness. "Get up," he said, this directed at the miserable heap at his feet.

Licking the blood that was trickling from the corner of his mouth, the pirate rolled onto his back. The full moon behind his attacker silhouetted his body leaving his face in shadow. The man would have been tall even if the pirate had not have been staring up at him from the ground. He was dressed nearly all in black, a long coat hung down to his ankles, and a wide brimmed hat was pulled low over his brow. He stood, one arm hanging limply by his side, the other resting on his hip in a gesture of supreme impatience. The pirate could have laughed aloud when thinking of how he must look, bleeding in the dirt with his pants around his ankles. If she were here, she'd be disgusted by the depths to which he'd let himself sink.

His attacker repeated the command, but the pirate did not want to get up. Maybe, if he just laid there, the man would get fed up and kill him. His assailant, however, did not get fed up. Instead, he reached down, grabbed the front of the pirate's shirt and threw him up against the wall. The pirate's head connected with the stones. Holding the pirate against the wall, the man leaned in closer. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The words were forced out from a clenched jaw so that the man's question sounded like a menacing, guttural growl.

A good question. What was he doing? Looking for companionship among the only people who might feel worse than he did? Dishonoring her memory by lying with a wasted whore? "She's dead, what does it matter," the pirate said, answering his own accusation.

The other man scoffed. "No, she isn't, you ignorant wretch," he snarled, venom in his words.

"What?"

"Goddammit, look at me, Jack," the man ordered, bringing the back of his hand hard across the pirate's face. "Look at yourself."

The pirate's head snapped to one side. Now, he did laugh. "I'm not Jack Sparrow," he said dully.

"You're right. You're not." The man stepped back and hit the pirate a second time. He fell to the ground, and, mercifully, blacked out.

TBC

Thank you so very much to everyone who read/reviewed last chapter. You're feedback keeps me going!


	11. Regret

Disclaimer: PotC belongs to Disney, not me.

A/N: Just wanted to make sure everyone noted the rating change ...

**Regret:**

Anamaria fell on her back on another woman's bed, as another woman's husband threw his shirt to the ground and crawled overtop of her. She ran her hands over the skin of his back, skin unmarred by scars or tattoos. The married man kissed her neck, one hand tangled in locks of black hair that were falling out of a carefully crafted up do.The other hand had hitched up her skirt and massaged the heated area between her legs. Laying her arms above her head, Ana let the happily wed man pull her dress off. She used the tiny dagger that habit had made her carry in her garter to cut the ties that were binding her corset. The stiff material snapped open, laying bare her breasts to someone else's husband. Thrown across the room, and forgotten, the dagger imbedded itself in the wall by the door.

"Touch me," Ana pleaded.

A hand bearing a gold wedding band grabbed one of Ana's breasts. The married man fondled her as his lips were drawn to the other breast. He sucked on her nipple, hungrily moaning as she held his head against her chest. Another woman's husband ground his member, still confined within his breeches, against Ana's body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. Her breast began to ache beneath his lips. She brought her hands again to his back, her nails leaving rosy trails up and down his light, not bronzed, skin.

Gasping at the luxurious pain, the wedded man briefly disengaged the lady's embrace to rid himself of cumbersome breeches. Hands on his broad shoulders, Ana pulled someone else's devoted husband back to the bed, turning him onto his back. With no hesitation, she lowered herself to his body, impaling herself of his throbbing erection. Her breath caught as he filled the empty space inside of her, if only for a moment. Rocking her hips, she threw her head back and cried out as his member brushed against her most sensitive areas. The married man was watching her, a lusty grin spread across his face. His hands were on her hips, guiding her body up and down faster and harder. His fingers dug into her skin, and his own hips pumped erratically. His eyes were full of fire, and his face contorted with passion. Moaning urgently, Ana increased her pace, rising up and falling against him. The lady's muscles tightened and loosened in a frenzied climax as the devoted husband's seed spilled into her body. Eyes wide, the married man called out a name that did not belong to his wife.

Anamaria Tarret's eyes popped as she lay with her head against the wedded man's chest, remembering the sins of moments earlier. How quickly he had forsaken the vows of marriage for her. How quickly she had forgotten her truest love for him. How easily and naturally they came to each other, both knowing their transgressions, neither letting that knowledge stop them.

The other woman's husband was stroking her hair, his heartbeat slowly regaining it's normal rhythm. Ana was watching her own hand caress his chest. She was transfixed by the sight of her dark fingers against his proper, light British skin. Running the tips of her fingers along his ribs, she could almost see the scars on a pirate's tanned skin. Closing her amber eyes, she conjured up the image of the tattoo that peeked out from the waistline of a pirate's breeches.

The happily wed husband cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Annie," he said, his voice still husky from their illicit affair.

"It was what I wanted," she said, knowing exactly for what he was apologizing.

"Maybe, but what a grieving woman wants and what a grieving woman needs can be far different. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

The married man's words brought a smile to Ana's face. Picking herself up, she gazed into his light, apologetic eyes. "I carry a knife in my skirts, James," she said. "Believe me, this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't wanted it … others have tried and met with much less success." She winked, grinning. For once, James did not appear shocked by her blunt speech. Tilting his head to one side, he merely smiled back, no doubt trying to imagine what exactly a lady pirate would do with unwanted advances. Ana didn't tell him, that _would _be too shocking. Shaking her head to bring her thoughts back to the present, Ana's face grew serious. "Don't be sorry, James. I'm not."

"You don't regret …" he didn't finish his thought.

"I might," Ana answered, truthfully. "I may scold myself for what we've done. I might cry when I think that Jack's body isn't even cold, yet. I may feel guilty when Elizabeth finds out … she will find out, you know." James nodded. "But, at the same time, being a pirate has taught me to live in the present," the lady paused, lowering her eyes. "Jack always said that regretting your past was useless."

James furrowed his brow. "That's funny," he mused. "Prescott always said that regreting anything was useless."

"Please, I've just committed adultery … well, actually you have … either way, I don't want to think about my brother right now," Ana chuckled laying back against James' chest. Chuckled? Had she really just chuckled? She exhaled.

Yes, she would regret this, when she had time alone to think about what she'd done. She would probably cry. She would definitely curse. She would curse herself, James, God, maybe even Jack, but, now … now, she honestly felt better. James was a married man, but he was also the man who's body was keeping her warm. The man who's strong arms were holding her. For the moment, she wasn't alone. Her life wasn't in shambles. For this fleeting moment, she was merely a women accepting loving kindness from a man.

"I hate to," James started. "But I really should get back to that party."

"Will you tell her?"

"Not tonight," he sighed.

"She might already know."

James didn't respond. There was nothing to say. Sliding out of the bed, he attempted to locate the various articles of clothing that were strewn about the room. Ana watched him dress. Lying in the oversized bed, in the over-decorated master bedroom, she wondered how different everything could have been if this was the life she had wanted. A hundred years ago, she'd been married to a Navy Captain, a man who could have made Admiral someday. If that marriage hadn't crumbled to pieces, she could have been the mistress of a respectable house. She could have planned social events, made love to her husband after grand parties, and watched him dress in the morning. Would that life have been any less heartbreaking?

As James buckled on his dress sword, Ana recalled one of the few mornings she'd awoke in her Captain's quarters. Jack's bed was much smaller, not adorned with fine linens or overstuffed pillows. She'd come to his cabin many nights,occasionally he'd even come to hers, and once they engaged in a night of passion high above decks in the fighting top. Each night they had fallen into each other's arms for different reasons. Each time they found solace, comfort, pain, desire or whatever they had been looking for, but she never felt closer to her Captain then when they stayed together till morning. She always knew that Jack trusted her, and loved her. She also knew that during twenty years, he'd found comfort in other women's arms as well as hers. But, when he went ashore for company, he always returned that same night, never letting the rising sun find him with another woman.

Departing from another woman's bed, Ana gathered up her clothes. She felt James' eyes on her nude form. She didn't bother to cover herself as she moved towards the door. Modesty now would be simply absurd. Her hand was resting on the crystal doorknob at the precise moment that a door opened downstairs. In an instant, James was at her back, his hands on her shoulders. He cursed under his breath as they both heard the butler greet Elizabeth.

"Get to your rooms," he whispered. Her eyes met his. She expected to see guilt or anxiety, but instead she saw disappointment.

"James?"

"I'd like to keep our secret … not forever, just … a bit longer."

TBC

Please, please review and let me know what you think!


	12. Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own PotC.

**Truth be Told:**

The pirate was jolted back to consciousness as his body was thrown unceremoniously to the ground. His dark eyes fluttered open and he saw the man who'd assaulted him in the alleyway. He was in a house and had, apparently, been dumped on the floor the moment the other man stepped in the door. His attacker stood near a fireplace, with his back turned to the pirate. Jack let his eyes fall closed. He did not need to look around the room, or take in his surroundings. He didn't need to see the painting over the mantle, or the mismatched, expensive furniture that had been _acquired_ rather than purchased. He didn't need to ascertain that the room's two doors lead to a guest bedroom and a study. He already knew, for he'd been to this house many times before this night. The man by the fireplace shrugged out of his floor length coat and Jack could see, for the first time, something he'd been hoping not to see. The man only had one arm.

"Damn," the pirate cursed silently. Bad enough that he had just lost everything he knew, now he would have to tell Prescott Tarret that his sister had died because of Jack's own foolhardiness.

Prescott Tarret was known to the world as Captain Lefty Scott, a name that Jack himself had bestowed on his friend, a name that Prescott could not stand. A lifetime ago, he had been a respected, even celebrated, hero of the Royal Navy. He'd been the youngest man ever promoted to Admiral in the West Indies. However, on a fateful day, Prescott gave his word to a pirate that he would see him safely through a potentially ugly situation. To keep his promise, the Admiral broke Jack out of prison, commandeered the ship that had once been his, and sailed off to Tortuga. No one before or since that day had ever done something so selfless for Jack. From that day onward, they had been shipmates, and brothers. Prescott was one man in whom Jack trusted completely. Jack knew that Prescott would happily have given his life to protect him. He wondered if Prescott would still make that sacrifice knowing what Jack had cost him.

"My God, Jack?" a woman with fiery red hair entered from another room. Scarlet Quinn. She was as good as married to Prescott, but there were no legal documents to that effect. She'd never bothered to take his last name because no one, outside a select few, knew his real surname. Jack had known Scarlet since his first days as a pirate. A few nights, he'd known her better than others, a fact he often used to tease Prescott. The lady had changed a lot since Jack first met her. She'd become just that, a lady. She used to paint her face with dark, gaudy make-up as dictated by her chosen profession, until one day when Prescott saw her without. He'd said she was more beautiful first thing in the morning than after hours spent in front of a mirror. She'd stopped wearing so much paint soon after. Scarlet still spoke plainly, drank in saloons, and could curse better than most seasoned sailors, but she carried herself with a cool confidence that said she didn't give a damn what the rest of the world thought of her. She had a man who loved her, and she didn't want for anything. Jack only wished he could have given that peace of mind to a woman who'd deserved it.

Scarlet's eyes were wide as she knelt down to help the pirate to his feet. She brushed her fingertips against his jaw line making him very aware of intense pain radiating from that spot. Prescott had decked him good, a few times, as he recalled. The redheaded woman led him to a chair by the hearth and bade him sit down. "What's happened to you? Where did you find him?" this last question directed at Scotty.

"In an alley," he answered, removing his hat and moving to warm his only hand in front of the fire.

Nearly a year had passed since Jack had last seen Prescott. The older pirate had taken his ship, the _Loyalty_, up the Atlantic to the American colonies and had been away for over ten months. With the _Pearl_ finally gone, Lefty Scott really was the last true pirate threat in the Caribbean, though British authorities hardly considered him a threat. Piracy agreed with Prescott. He was an extremely capable sailor, a respected commander, and an honorable man who had never been above bending the rules when it suited his purpose. But he never really stopped fighting for England, only attacking French or Spanish settlements and ships. In doing so, Prescott had become one of the wealthiest men that Jack knew and British authorities were content to simply ignore him.

Unlike so many pirates, Prescott had saved his ill gotten gain so that he could retire from a dangerous occupation. His home was furnished with the finest pieces from Madrid and Barcelona. His woman wore Paris' finest gowns. He prided himself on the fact that he could relish in the fruits of his enemies labor, and not pay them one red cent. Prescott planned for a future of leisure, but he had yet to retire. He enjoyed being a pirate, and, as it did with Jack, piracy kept him young. Gray streaks marred his long brown hair. His tanned skin wrinkled at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but Prescott didn't look old.

Scarlet was still inspecting the cuts and bruises that no doubt dotted Jack's face, her face contorted with concern. "Who did this to him?" she asked, when it was clear Prescott had no intention of expanding his initial statement.

"I did," he said simply. The woman stood up and faced the man by the fire. Her hands went to her hips, and she looked angry. "He was in an alley on the north side of town, and he wasn't lacking for company," Prescott said, before Scarlet could scold him.

The woman turned back to the pirate, questions in her eyes but not on her lips. Returning to his side, she knelt next to the chair. "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry," she said, laying a hand on the side of his face. Her hand was warm, blessedly warm. He leaned into her palm, using his own hand to press hers to his cheek. "I'm sure Scotty didn't mean t' urt you."

The man removed his hat and threw it to the ground. He turned on Jack, blue eyes flashing. "No," he said. "I meant to kill 'im, but self control intervened on his behalf."

"Scotty!"

Jack stood up, bravely facing the older man's icy glare. "Ana's dead," he said, his voice low and flat.

Prescott's eyebrow rose. "What is that? An excuse?" he asked. "My sister's gone so now you can feel free to desecrate her memory with every gutter rat in town?" He paused, his hand clenched in a fist. He took what seemed like a steadying breath, no doubt meant to keep him from leveling Jack in front of Scarlet. "Maybe it would be better if that were true," he said at length. "If she were gone, she wouldn't have to see how low you've sunk."

"That's enough, Scotty."

Scarlet was trying to placate the older pirate, but Jack barely heard a word the woman said. _If she were gone._ Those had been Prescott's words. _If._ "Ana's alive?" Jack said her name for the first time since he thought he'd lost her.

Prescott and Scarlet ceased their bickering. The other pirate Captain eyed Jack, contempt clearly visible in those blue depths. Jack had witnessed Prescott's anger before this night. He'd watched the older pirate dismantle a man with words, but he'd never been on the receiving end of that indignation. Letting out a scornful laugh, Prescott crossed the room to stand just in front of Jack. "I've just come from Kingston," he said. "I was there when news came in that the _Black Pearl_ had been destroyed. Only one survived … a dark skinned woman."

Scotty's words hit Jack harder than the man's fist could have. The breath rushed from his lungs and his knees gave way. He fell miserably into the seat that, luckily, stood right behind him. His mouth hung open, but he was completely unable to speak. Ana was alive? Alive.

"Now, unless there were two dark skinned females sailing with you …"

Jack shook his head, still stupefied by the news.

"I didn't think so," Prescott went on. He turned and paced back towards the hearth. Placing a hand on the mantle, he spoke into the fire. "Soon as I heard, I set sail back here. I had my men blowing into the sails, day and night I pushed them, so that I could get back here to tell you."

At this, the muted pirate finally found his voice. "But, if the report was only one survivor …"

"How did I know you survived?" Prescott shrugged, spreading out his one remaining arm. "Hell, Jack, I guess I had a little faith in the man who'd been through so much. I didn't think the Navy could stop the indomitable Captain Jack Sparrow." The muscles in the older man's jaw twitched. "I didn't think I'd have to pull you out of a whore's ass to relay the glad tidings," he growled through clenched teeth.

In spite of Prescott's fury, Jack felt indescribable relief. He almost pinched himself. Ana was alive.

Suddenly, Scotty's hand closed around Jack's arm and he was yanked to his feet. "We sail within the hour," he said. "Try to pull yourself together into some semblance of the man I thought you were."

"Where are we goin?"

"Kingston."

The younger pirate's eyes widened. He looked to Scarlet, who stood regarding him with crossed arms. After Scotty's rant, she didn't seem quite so willing to rush to Jack's defense. Overjoyed as he'd been that Ana lived, he was somewhat hesitant to hasten to her side. He spent the past few days regretting things unsaid, swearing that if he'd only one more chance he'd tell Ana how he felt. He would tell her that he loved her. Now, with that prospect staring him in the face, he was uncertain. "You don't have to do this," he said to Scotty.

The other man scoffed. "After this night, do not think I do this for you," he snarled. "For whatever reason, my sister loves you. She's probably beside herself thinking that you're dead. I'm taking you to Kingston to ease _her_ mind, nothing more." The chill in Scotty's voice was palpable. Lifting his coat from the back of a the chair and bending to retrieve his discarded hat, Prescott made for the door. "Maybe if you beg her on bended knee, she'll forgive you for this."

"She always has," Jack answered automatically, without thinking.

The older pirate instantly stopped in his tracks. He straightened, and the muscles in his back tensed. Turning slowly, he glared through narrowed lids at Jack. "What did you say?" Prescott's voice wavered slightly with rage and disbelief. "You've been unfaithful to Annie before this night," Scotty's words were a statement not a question.

Staring into cold blue eyes, shadowed by the brim of a black hat, Jack glimpsed the fearful pirate who lurked in tavern stories. He saw Lefty Scott, not the man who'd been his brother for twenty plus years. He wanted to answer Prescott's accusation, justify his actions in some way, but he knew that was impossible. There was no explanation for what he'd done. Ana was the only woman who'd ever been able to get beneath his skin, to see beyond walls he'd so carefully constructed around his heart. That closeness terrified him. He'd never told her he loved her, for if he never said those words, she'd never have power over him. Power to hurt, reject, or leave him. Whenever she got too close, he would push her away and run to the arms of another. Stupid, yes, but relatively safe. He lowered his eyes. He could have said all these things to Scotty. Maybe the older man would have understood, or at least accepted his excuse. But, he remained silent. He had been wrong. Maybe he deserved the hate in his brother's face.

"She gave up her whole world to go to sea with you," Scotty spat the words. Crossing the room, he stood glaring down at the younger pirate. "And you couldn't even stay faithful to her? Did you ever love my sister, Jack?"

"Yes," this Jack answered instantly.

"Did you ever tell her?"

A blade pierced Jack's heart. Prescott's eyes had always been able to see straight through him. He simply shook his head.

"Well, you're going to you son of a bitch," Prescott said. "And you will beg her forgiveness for each and every time you hurt her."

"Beg her?" Jack repeated the words, deciding finally to stick up for himself. "You make it sound as though she sat alone in her cabin reading the Bible while I was ashore. I assure you, she wasn't –" he abruptly stopped speaking when he found himself sprawled on the ground at Prescott's feet. He coughed and spat his own blood on the floorboards.

"Your own medicine leave a bitter taste in your mouth?" Scotty sneered, glaring down at Jack. He was shaking his hand, apparently knocking another man senseless caused a bit of pain. He looked as though he would say more, but, without another word he turned and stalked out of the house, slamming the door so hard that the walls shook.

Scarlet sighed and knelt beside Jack. "Come on," she said. "Let's get ye cleaned up." Jack made a face that asked what was the point. The redhead smirked. "Scotty said ye sailed in an hour. If I were you, I wouldn't want t' be late."

TBC

a/n: For anyone who was a bit confused with this chappy, Prescott Tarret is an OC that's figured rather prominently in my other PotC stories. I think I gave enough background for him, but if you're curious about him, I'd love for you to read my other J/A stories: "A Beginning" "Past and Present" and "Brothers"

Oh and Cal, did I rake Jack over the coals enough for you:-)

Thanks so much for the reviews, please keep them coming!


	13. Dagger

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone from PotC.

**Chapter Thirteen:"Dagger"**

Admiral Sir James Norrington lay awake as the sun rose to it's place in the morning sky. Admiral. Long years of following orders, risking his life, and performing his duty had brought him to the position of Commander of the Royal Navy in the Caribbean. In Kingston alone his magnificent flagship, _Dauntless_, one other double-decked ship of the line, three frigates and no fewer than four sloops stood at anchor ready to embark at the word of their Admiral. Sir James. Hundreds of pirates had gone to the noose because of his diligence. Thousands of miles away, His King had made him a Knight, rewarding those many years he spent serving the Crown and keeping the West Indies safe for decent people. Norrington. The beautiful woman sleeping soundly beside him had taken that name years ago in spectacle of a wedding that everyone in town had been invited to witness. Their son, a midshipman on leave from his second year in the Navy, bore that name as well as the daughter who had married and gone off to England only last month.

His eyes traced the painted patterns in the ceiling high above his head. The muted colors in the mural were meant to bring sweet dreams to the man and woman who lay in the bed below. Elizabeth had designed the painting herself. During it's conception, she had spoken so excitedly about the puffy white clouds, and angels with graceful wings playing gilded harps. The image was beautifully rendered. The painter had outdone himself. At the time, James' heart had warmed seeing the childlike joy on his wife's face when she'd first gazed at the completed work. Now, however, the clouds looked gray and dismal. The faces of the angels seemed to hold unspoken accusations. Those painted eyes had watched him take another woman to his wedding bed. They were watching him now, as the man who appeared to have every happiness and success lay on his back with a deep frown on his face.

Rising from the bed, carefully so as not to disturb Elizabeth, Norrington dressed and escaped the confines of his false happiness. He wanted to go down the hall to the guest chamber. He wanted to take the woman behind that door in his arms. Instead, he shook his head and descended the grand staircase. Never before had every aspect of his life been so utterly backwards. He was sad for the loss of a pirate, conflicted concerning his duty, and longing for the embrace of a woman he'd given up on. Maybe he could just go to his ship and hide in his cabin until Annie decided to go back to her life as a piratess.

James stopped suddenly at the last step. His thoughts had been interrupted by the sound of voices. Not wanting to disturb the conversation, but curious as to who was having it, the Admiral followed the soft sound to the veranda that stretched out behind his grand mansion. There, sitting at the white wicker table, Anamaria Tarret was talking with his son. John was still dressed in the dress uniform he had worn to last night's ball. He looked tired, but not tired enough to tear himself away from whatever story Annie had just finished telling. His brown eyes, that could have come straight out of his mother's head, were tinged pink but wide as saucers.

"It sounds as though you've known my father a very long time," the midshipman was saying. "Might I ask when you first met?"

"We met at a party, actually," Annie answered, taking James back to that very night. "A man completely without any of a gentleman's saving graces had cornered me, and your father came to my rescue. He's a very gifted damsel rescuer, you know."

"So my mother tells me," John said. "Although, she's also told me that a woman named Anamaria is one of the fiercest pirates in these waters. You don't look so fierce to me."

Annie leaned across the table. "You don't know me very well," she teased.

John smiled. "Ah, you are a pirate, then." His eyes finally found James standing in the doorway. "How is it, then, that you are a guest in our house? I would have assumed my father would have hung you by now."

Turning around in her chair, Annie winked at James. "He's tried, but I have an older brother with a slightly reckless, overprotective streak." She laughed softly. "You see, John, I'm fairly certain my brother will kill your father if he ever succeeds in hanging me."

Norrington shrugged. "Yes, I imagine he would have, at that."

"James, please, you speak as though he's dead."

The Admiral's eyes widened slightly. "Isn't he?"

Annie's eyebrow arched. "No. Why would you think that?" she asked.

"I've heard nothing of him for over five years. I suppose I assumed …"

The lady smiled, before rising from her seat and coming to stand next to James. "You assumed that he couldn't resist the urge to use every waking moment to plague you?" Annie shook her head, mocking the officer. "Ask a frog, or a Spaniard," she said. "They'll tell you what Lefty Scott is up to."

"Lefty Scott is your brother?" John interrupted, his eyes nearly as wide as his father's. Annie nodded.

"It's a wonder he hasn't come for you," James ignored his son's comment.

The insurmountable grief that the woman was destined to feel the rest of her life briefly flickered across her face. Shrugging it away, she said, "Well, Tortuga is a day's sailing from here. It would take the news at least that long to reach him. To my knowledge he has yet to steal a crystal ball or a magic lamp. He would've had to bee in your backyard the day you heard the news to arrive any sooner."

"In my backyard," James repeated. "That would hardly surprise me," he said, recalling several times when Prescott seemed to have materialized out of the clear blue sky. The man was an excellent pirate, stealing into a town as heavily patrolled as Kingston was not above and beyond where Prescott was concerned. "He will come, though."

"Yes, I imagine he will."

John immediately began to fire questions at Annie concerning the tales told of the famous one-armed pirate. James, however, paid no attention. Instead, he paused a moment to contemplate the significance of the lady's words. He had known that his affair with the dark-skinned woman could not go on forever. Elizabeth would find out, or Annie would eventually leave. But, he hadn't counted on her brother. Prescott could be her strength while she rode out the storm of grief. He always had been in the past, and he would fill that position far better than James could. He was Annie's family after all. Her departure was suddenly very imminent.

"Good morning, John, James … Anamaria," Elizabeth stepped out onto the patio, almost as though James' impure thoughts had called to her. Her smile was pleasant enough, but the way that she said Annie's name sent tiny shivers up Norrington's spine. Did she know, already? "John, would you excuse us for a moment."

Their son rose from the table and came to kiss his mother on the cheek. "Of course, Mother," he said, and then turning to the lady pirate. "It was a distinct pleasure to meet you," he said, planting a kiss on Annie's hand. Elizabeth seemed to scowl.

"What is it, my dear?" Norrington started, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Oh, I just wanted to say how thankful I am that Anamaria was here last night," she started. Bringing her hand up to eye level, James was shocked to see the small dagger that had been in Annie's garter last night, in his wife's grasp this morning. "I'm sure she scared off whatever intruder must have been trying to gain entry into our bedroom." Elizabeth was glaring at Annie, who had crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "What I'm wondering, James, is what she was doing in our bedroom in the first place?"

TBC

I know this update was a long time coming, and I apologize profusely. I will not neglect all you lovely reviewers again, promise! And since I made you all wait so long, I'm going to start responding to each of your wonderful reviews. It's the very least I can do.

Yuna-Flowering: To answer your first question, I am absolutely planning to write the stories that would lead up to this one. I hadn't planned to do this so out of order, but the idea came to me and I just went with it. So, I hope you don't mind jumping back and forth between this and "Brothers." Jack and Prescott's relationship is a bit strained at this point and that is sad, but I think it's a testiment to the fact that they've become real brothers. They may not like each other all of the time, but when it counts they are there for one another. And I know exactly what you mean about almost being sad that James and Ana didn't get to be together. Norry is lovely, but he's no Jack Sparrow, is he?

Nykky: Thanks so much for the compliment, I'm glad I've got you interested. I'm also happy that you don't hate Jack. He's being a bit of a jerk, but what man doesn't have that tendency? And I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because it's only the beginning of the dirty laundry!

Angel-In-Hell: I love Jack/Ana fics, obviously. So I'm glad you've enjoyed where I'm taking the couple, and I hope you don't mind what I'm putting them through. Jack/Ana stories are a bit hard to find, but I'll always be here to write them, I hope you'll continue to read 'em.

SylviaD: Scotty's definitely hard to resist. I didn't know when I started writing this if he was going to show up or not, but I couldn't resist either! And I know he was a bit hard on Jack, but sometimes brothers are like that. Prescott does have an overprotective streak where Ana's concerned, and I think his anger was just the automatic reaction to hearing that she's been hurt. I'm glad you took the dare and decided to stick with this, I sincerely hope I do not disappoint.

Cal: Prescott's pirate name really is a bit cheesy, but Jack made it up (and we can probably assume he was drunk at the time), and poor Scotty certainly hates it ... but it gets the job done. And I'm glad you view Pres as more of a "gentleman pirate." Any amount of research will prove that such a thing really didn't exist, but I don't care. I sort of have the Errol Flynn kind of pirate in mind when I write Pres, all that rebel with a heart of gold stuff. I don't think he could be anything else, b/c he has all those years of Navy training, and that code of ethics so engrained in him. I'm also happy you noticed the calm within the storm where Prescott is explaining how he found out the news and had to get back to tell Jack. That's partly the reason that Pres is so angry with Jack, b/c he was in such a hurry to get back to find his brother and tell him the good news and then he found Jack in the alley. He's disappointed and he's taking it out on Jack. Not completely fair, but not unjustified. Lastly to answer your question: No, Pres didn't know that Jack had stepped out before. If you were Jack, is that something you'd ever share with Pres, I mean, look what happened. I think Pres knows that Jack has probably been a jerk where Ana is concerned, and, he probably knows that Ana hasn't always acted in the best way either. When he isn't pissed as hell, he's usually pretty diplomatic. So, thanks for the novel review, I hope you didn't mind the novel length reply!

Logical Ghost: Well, not quite evil, but certainly not very gentlemanly either. I think it's safe to say that sparks will fly when he and Ana meet up, don't you? Thank you so much for the compliment, I'm glad you thought I was brilliant, and not terrible, formaking Jack a bit of a jerk these past few chappies.

Pendragginink: Yeah, I've really beat Jack up here haven't I? He doesn't have awhole lot of tact when speaking to Scotty, b/c I think he's so in shock over what's happening, that his mouth is way ahead of his brain. And as far as Ana ever telling Jack that she loved him. No, I don't think she has (that may change, as I haven't reallywritten this series in order) I picture her whispering those words after he's fallen asleep, or when they're both too drunk to remember, moments like that. And you're absolutely right that Jack is in just as muchpain now,as he would be in if he'd told Ana how he felt. Probably more. I mean,if he'd just said he loved her and been open, think how much happier he would have been before Ana "died." Well, who saidour favorite pirate wasright all the time?

DyingStar: I'm gladyou understand Jack's actions.He's definitely very defensive and guarded when people try to get close to him. I think the kind of closeness thathe feels with Ana scares him b/c it gives her so muchpower over him. So, even though it's notthe best idea to run into the bed of the nearest whore, it isn't so hard to understand whyJack would do it. And I'm glad you like Prescott. He'sa bit overprotective of the women in his life,but he's not sobad when he isn't pissed off. So, give him another chance, he may redeem himself.

Thanks so much for all the reveiws. Keep them coming and I'll try to shorten the timebetween updates!


	14. En Route

Disclaimer: I own nothing from PotC.

**Chapter Fourteen: "En Route"**

The pirate ship, _Loyalty_, had set sail nearly two hours ago. Jack had come aboard and, after receiving an icy glare from Scotty, retreated to the Captain's quarters. He had no idea if he was welcome in Scotty's cabin, but he had no where else to go. Up on deck he would likely only irritate _Loyalty'_s Captain by reminding him of their conversation in his house. Besides that, Jack did not know if he could endure the accusations in the older pirate's eyes. Below decks, he was a stranger, and strangers were untrustworthy at best, and outright enemies at worst. All of this on top of the ache in his heart caused by being on any ship besides his _Pearl_. Jack wanted to be alone, and Scotty's cabin was the only place guaranteed to be empty while he was pacing up on deck.

Jack smiled ruefully. Scotty had always been one to pace up and down the quarterdeck. If it were not for the fact that the Captain of a pirate ship was required to take certain actions during a sea battle, Scotty could go on pacing in spite of the cannon fire. Some things never changed. Looking around the Captain's cabin made that conclusion even more obvious. When Admiral Prescott Tarret had made the decision, long ago, to give up his career for Jack, he'd helped the pirate escape from Kingston by commandeering his own ship. The crew that manned said ship, however, was made up of pirates devoted to Captain Sparrow. For these, and a few other reasons, ownership of _Loyalty_ had been one of Scotty and Jack's favorite disagreements. They both called themselves Captain of the same stolen ship. Because of this ongoing argument, Scotty had built a wall down the center of the Captain's cabin, so neither man had to concede to the other. Scotty, now, used the first half of the cabin for his desk, charts and papers and the second half as his sleeping cabin, but the wall, built over twenty years ago, still stood as a reminder of days gone by.

So lost in memory was he that Jack almost jumped when the cabin door flew open behind him. Scotty entered, throwing his black hat and coat onto a chair. If he was further annoyed by Jack's presence in his cabin, his face did not betray those emotions. "We've a strong wind and a calm sea," he said flatly. "We'll make Kingston by morning."

Jack doubted that the older pirate expected any response to his comment, so he stayed quiet. Silently, he contemplated his reunion with Anamaria. He should be ecstatic. More than that, he should be up on deck fanning the sails himself to speed their journey. However, in place of elation, the pirate felt only trepidation. Alone on the beach, watching his ship burning and sinking below the waterline, he had sworn that, given the chance to do it all over again, he would be honest with his female first mate. For one of the very few times in his life, he had experienced the deepest, darkest sense of regret over things not said. He knew he should be eager to see Ana and ready to pour his heart out to her, but he wasn't.

Scotty had said nothing while Jack feelings were waging war inside of his head. He had set about tidying his cabin and rolling up the various charts that had been opened on his desk. After finishing, he opened an oak cabinet and retrieved a crystal decanter filled with one of Jack's oldest friends. Setting the bottle of rum on his desk, Scotty found two glasses and poured the spicy liquor into each. Raising his glass, he looked to Jack. "A toast," he said.

The younger pirate picked up a glass, and eyed his friend with interest. "What do we drink to?"

One side of Scotty's mouth lifted in a slight smile. "To second chances," he said. "And third chances, and fourth, and fifth …" he paused, emptying the glass. "And sixth, and seventh, and however many a man needs," he finished, laughing.

Jack, smiling for the first time in a long time, followed suit, placing his emptied glass on Scotty's desk.

Scotty poured a second round of drinks, his face straightening. "Jack," he started. "Annie's my sister, and you are my brother in every way that matters, and the two of you are free to carry on this incestuous relationship in any way you choose." He drained the second glass, and immediately poured a third. "But, if you intend to screw things up like you did last night, do not let me find out about it, or I shall be forced to drop you with a single blow … again."

Eyebrows raised, Jack said, "Wasn't exactly a fair fight, mate."

The older pirate helped himself to a fourth drink. "Jack Sparrow, you wouldn't know a fair fight if you were in one, which you never would be."

"I resent that."

"Dreadfully sorry. I certainly didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Scotty's face grew stern again. "Seriously, though, Jack," he said. "If you love my sister, you have to tell her. Else, she's bound to wise up and realize she could do so much better."

Jack decided that he was in dire need of another drink, himself. Shaking his head, he poured a full glass. He did not need Scotty to tell him that he didn't deserve a woman like Ana. Her devotion, her strength, he didn't warrant any of it. About all he did merit was the back of her hand, which she quite frequently gave him. When she did get angry, or frustrated, when she did break down and scream and yell at him, those were the times that he saw clearly where their relationship would end. One day, he would push the fiery woman too far, and she would leave him.

"Lighten up, Captain Sparrow," Scotty broke into Jack's thoughts. "I was only jesting."

"Were you."

"Please, half a bottle is not near enough to make me say things I do not mean. I have you to thank for that." Scotty went to the cabinet and retrieved another bottle, tossing it to Jack, who caught it easily. After all, he could never watch his beloved rum fall to the floor. Pulling the cork from a third bottle, Scotty came back to stand next to his friend. "If we all got what we deserved, Jack, you and I would've swung from the end of a rope a long time ago." This time Prescott raised the entire bottle into the air. "But, my friend, you and I are pirates. We do not get what we deserve. We take what we want."

"Aye," Jack agreed. "I'll drink t' that."

"You'll drink to anything," Scotty responded, as he so often did. Both men clinked the bottle necks together before gulping down the delicious liquid. "Annie's a pirate too, you know," Scotty said, tilting his head to one side, thoughtfully. "Hell, even before she was a pirate, she had a habit of taking what she wanted."

Jack nodded, knowingly.

"She wants you, Jack," Scotty went on. "For whatever reason, and no matter if you think you aren't worthy. You'll have quite a time getting rid of her. I'd thought you'd know that by now."

Nodding again, Jack made a face indicative of the number of times he'd heard words to that effect from Scotty. The older pirate often speculated on why exactly his little sister had fallen for the wily pirate. Most of the time, he would simply shake his head, pour a drink, and say something about never understanding the mind of a woman. He was always only teasing Jack, that, after all, was his prerogative as Ana's older brother. Still, Jack could never help but find a measure of truth in Scotty's words.

More than twenty years, Anamaria had sailed with him, and he could never find the words to say what she meant to him. I love you. Not overly difficult words. Not many words, but words that Jack could scarcely dig up the courage to say. Ana would never ask him to stand atop the mainmast and scream his declaration at the top of his lungs. She would probably never ask him to say them in front of a church filled with their friends. For that matter, Ana had never even asked him to say those three, short words quietly in the privacy of his own cabin. She shouldn't have to. He did love her, there was no denying that. He should want to ascend the mast and sing songs about her. He should have asked her to be his wife years ago. He should have told her, just once, that she was the love of his life.

"They won't have kept her in prison," Scotty was saying, talking more because he talked a lot when drinking than because he thought Jack needed to hear this information. "She's managed to avoid the infamy of her Captain, and Norrington's Admiral there, now. He won't let any harm come to her."

"You really think she'd be staying with Norrington?" Jack questioned, thankful that Scotty had given him something else to think about. "Her and _Mrs. Norrington_ don't exactly see eye to eye, mate." More devastating memories surfaced at the mention of the Admiral's wife. Jack had seen nothing of Elizabeth since he'd met her on a rainy morning at the docks in Tortuga, and she'd asked him to tell Will goodbye for her.

Scotty chuckled as though he'd completely forgotten about Elizabeth Norrington. "Ah, yes, the governor's daughter," he said. "Spirited girl, if I recall correctly." If Anamaria and Elizabeth did not see eye to eye, then Scotty and Elizabeth could not even look in the same direction without bothering one another. They had only met on one occasion, but the young woman had instantly reminded Scotty of his former wife. Things only went downhill from there. By the time Scotty and Elizabeth had parted company, they probably would have disagreed on the color of an orange. "Spirited," the older pirate repeated his assessment, "But my money's still on Annie."

Jack silently agreed. When Ana had found out that Elizabeth didn't possess enough decency to tell Will, face to face, that she was leaving, the lady pirate had been livid. Ana had always looked forward to seeing Elizabeth again, so that she could give the younger woman a piece of her mind. Jack, however, had wished to never see Elizabeth again.

"Though, I pray it doesn't come to that," Scotty quickly finished the discussion, knowing how painful any memories of Will were for Jack. He smiled, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder. "If she and Elizabeth face off, then the Admiral may be in need of a rescue by the time we arrive."

TBC

Well, as promised, this update came much quicker than the last. The next chapter's half finished, so that one will be fast too! And I'm sure lots of reviews will encourage me to write faster (how's that for some sort of blackmail?)

SylviaD: I'm glad that curiosity keeps you coming back to this. It is a lot different than "Brothers," the whole tone of the story is different, and it's meant to be. Maybe you're unsure about "Kindling" because it paints kind of a bleak picture for the future of characters that we love. I can understand that it's hard to be hopeful while reading earlier stories, when you know this is how things end up. All I can say is, I'll keep writing and I hope you keep reading. Don't ever be worried that I'll be offended if you don't absolutely love every sentence I produce. I love to hear any and all comments about my stories, even if you aren't happy about the decisions I make.

DyingStar: It was short, I know, but short is better than nothing, right? You asked about everyone's ages, and I'm sorry if there was confusion. This story takes place long after the movie. Probably about twenty years after the movie. So, imagine Norry and Prescott to be in their late fifties. Ana and Jack would be about fifty. And Lizzie's probably mid forties. So for this time period, they're all pretty old. And as far as Norry's children being grown, well, his daughter just got married so she'd be about 16 or 17, and his son's a midshipman, they can be as young as 12 (but I imagine John being about 14). Grown for the time period, but kinda young by today's standards. I'm glad I didn't disappoint you with the ending, and don't worry I'm not giving up on this story by any means!

Alicia: I'm so happy with your assessment of Ana and Lizzie, cause so far you and I are in absolute agreement. Ana and Lizzie could have gone down the exact same path, cause you're right, they did come from the same beginnings. They are two very different people on the inside, though, which is why they're so far removed from each other at this point. I'll get back to them next chapter, and I hope that _conversation_ will be to your liking!

An-Angel-In-Hell: Do you mean to say that you've noticed I don't tend to write fairytale happy endings! I'll definitely take you're review as a compliment, and I hope I can keep throwing out unexpected twists and turns.

Yuna-Flowering: More Prescott and Jack, as requested. Next chappy will get back to Ana, James and Lizzie. And tension, well, that's an understatement!

Cal: You're right, Jack is certainly not stupid enough to tell Scotty about any of his wanderings. I sort of figure, they have a don't ask don't tell agreement where Ana is concerned. Prescott doesn't go out of his way to keep tabs on Jack and Ana, but if he finds something out, like last chappy, he won't keep it to himself either! I really liked your comments about the ceiling mural, and I totally agree. Lizzie and Norry aren't a passionately in love couple, and she really can be an immature little brat sometimes. And I'm happy to see that you caught the part about the forgotten dagger. No, Norry didn't remember to do anything about it. Come on, he was just bedded by Anamaria! You can't expect him to think at all rationally. Anyway, I'll be getting back to the Ana/Lizzie fireworks and explosions very soon. The hellcat will absolutely be using her claws!

Alright, now I have to get back to writing!


	15. Conflicting Viewpoints

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from PotC.

**Chapter Fifteen: "Conflicting Viewpoints"**

Anamaria's eyebrow arched of it's own volition. Even though she would be found guilty of each and every accusation Mrs. Norrington brought against her, she could not help but feel offended. Elizabeth had just called her a whore, as plainly as if she'd actually said those words. Yes, she had gone to James' bedroom, and, judging by the angelic mural on the ceiling, she'd done things to him that had never been done in that room. But, she was no gutter rat lurking in alleyways ready to ensnare any man unfortunate enough to be lonely. Hell, she never would have dreamed of entering James Norrington's bed chamber if his own wife hadn't let slip that he was in love with Ana. Maybe, in her grief, she had taken advantage of a good man's sympathies, but the last thing in the world she wanted was to bring him this kind of trouble. Ana sighed silently. That wasn't true. She would not have lost one minute of sleep if James left his wife to run away with her. At least, then, he wouldn't go unappreciated, and she wouldn't be so alone.

Pursing her lips, Ana uncrossed her arms. Resting her hand on her hip, she glared at Elizabeth, daring the younger woman to say what was really on her mind. Mrs. Norrington was holding Ana's dagger with the tip of her index finger and her thumb, as though she might catch some vile disease from the weapon. She'd probably already ordered the sheets burned.

"Elizabeth," Norrington's voice was low and calm, as though he were speaking to a fussy youngster. "What makes you think that dagger belongs to Annie?"

Ana could have sighed again. James was a smart man, but he had just asked the worst possible question. The blonde woman shot a hateful glare at her husband. "Because her name is carved into the blade," she answered tersely.

"Your name is carved into the blade?" James floundered, caught completely off guard by this latest piece of information. He cast questioning eyes towards Ana, seeming to momentarily forget that his angry little wife had just accused him of adultery. "What kind of a blacksmith takes the time to do that?"

The part of Ana that couldn't stand Elizabeth's blue-blooded, condescending attitude began to laugh and jump up and down inside of her. That was the right question to ask. "The kind who's just found out his one true love has gone off and married someone else," Ana snarled, fixing her most menacing glare on Norrington's wife. "That sort of blacksmith has all the time in the world."

The dagger fell from Elizabeth's grasp at the same moment that the self-righteous indignation fell from her face. Both hit the stone patio with a resounding crash. The blonde woman's arm plummeted limply to her side, and all the blood that had risen to her cheeks abruptly disappeared. Her mouth dropped open, and she regarded Ana in wide-eyed horror.

Taking in the younger woman's expression, Ana almost felt sorry for her gruff manner. Not sorry enough, however, to offer an apology or any words to soften the blow. Will's eyes had been hollow and empty when he'd given Ana that knife. They had been on three weeks shore leave, and Will had spent time in the local smithy making presents for his friends on the _Black Pearl_. He had told Ana that the dagger, engraved especially for her, was a thank you gift. As the only woman aboard, she had always been the one nominated to try to speak with Will when he seemed depressed. Ana had said that no thank you was necessary, but that she would never pass up such a magnificent weapon. Six days later, William Turner, Jr. was dead. Word was sent, but Elizabeth could not even be troubled to attend the young blacksmith's funeral.

As if moving in slow motion, Elizabeth kneeled to the ground and picked up the dagger. This time she held the blade in both of her hands, turning it over and over, admiring the craftsmanship. "Will made this?" she said quietly as she rose to her feet.

Ana glanced at James, who had turned his face to the house. His jaw was clenched tight, and his light eyes were fixed on something far, far away from this conversation. Elizabeth spoke her dead lover's name with awe, and reverence. Ana could clearly see on Norrington's face, that his wife never spoke the same way about him. "Aye, he did," the lady answered, shortly. She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to curse Elizabeth's name for the pain she caused the men who loved her. She wanted to explain in lurid detail exactly how she had made love to the blonde woman's husband. She wanted to make her understand that Will had gone to his grave broken and lonely, and that it was all Elizabeth's fault. Most of all, she wanted to scream at James. Ask him why he would stay with such a heartless statue of a woman. But, for some reason, she held her tongue.

Elizabeth's eyes finally met Ana's again. "You think me terrible, don't you, for leaving Will?" she whispered.

The piratess raised her chin. "No," she said, quite honestly. "I don't think you're terrible for breaking things off with him." Any desire to leave hateful words unsaid instantly vanished. Elizabeth was not a naïve girl any longer, and Ana had no intention of letting her wallow in girlish fantasies. She'd broken a man's heart and never looked back, and it was high time some one told her so. Now, was that time, and Ana decided to be that person. "I think you're terrible for making him believe you really would stay with him forever. I think you're terrible for giving him hope that a blacksmith really could find love with a governor's daughter." Ana could remember the time that Elizabeth had spent on the _Pearl_, with Will. To her credit, she did try to enjoy that life, but she didn't fit in. She could not help but look down her nose at the crew, at her meager accommodations, at Ana, at Jack, and, eventually, even at Will.

The younger woman's cheeks colored. "I did love him," she insisted. "I tried to stay with him, but – "

"But what?" Ana snapped. "The sound of James' money was more appealing than the clanging of Will's hammer?"

"How dare you insinuate that I married James for his station," Elizabeth shrieked.

Only regretting the pain she was causing Norrington, Ana plowed ahead. "I believe you care about him, Elizabeth, I really do," she said. "But is it asking too much for you to show him the same affection that you once showed Mr. Turner? How many other men of quality would have had you after you ran off with a pirate for two years?"

"Annie," Norrington spoke up for the first time since the lady pirate had let in on his wife. The interruption, however, was half-hearted at best. She was embarrassing the Admiral by saying that he warranted more than he got from Elizabeth, but she wasn't saying anything that he probably hadn't said to himself a thousand times.

For his sake, and his alone, Ana shut her mouth.

Elizabeth exchanged glances with her husband. His warning, though silent to his wife, had been meant for both women. "Just one thing, I would like to know, Anamaria," the younger woman said, after pausing to compose herself, somewhat. "What should I have done? In my position, what would you have done?"

The pirate saw the same shade of red she'd seen when Elizabeth had been bold enough to compare her relationship with Will to that of Ana and Jack. She wished lightning could come forth from her eyes and knock Mrs. Norrington on her pompous little ass. "What I _did_ do, Elizabeth, was choose love over comfort, money, society … all of it. Since your so busy trying to stay on top of your high horse all the time, you seem to keep forgetting that I was Captain Christopher Laffley's widow, and Captain Prescott Tarret's sister. I had more money that almost everyone on this damned, narrow-minded island. I could have bought myself as much prestige as I wanted. But, I left it all to spend my life with the man I loved."

Glaring at the pirate, Elizabeth spoke lowly. "And where did it get you."

Without thought or pause, Anamaria seized the dagger from Elizabeth's lily white hands. Grabbing the younger woman by her shoulders, Ana spun her around so that she stood with her back touching the pirate's chest. Ana pressed the engraved blade against Elizabeth's neck. "Jack taught me that little move," she hissed in the blonde woman's ear. "So, I've got that, at least."

"Annie," James spoke in earnest this time. Hands raised in front of him, he slowly inched towards the volatile pirate. "Annie, let her go."

"Let her go?" Ana's voice was light, playful. She was taunting the woman who's life was in her hands. "Why? So, she can go on using you, taking advantage of you."

Elizabeth, foolishly, dared to speak. "_I_ use him?" she spat. "Then, what would you call the evening you apparently spent in his arms?"

Ana pulled back slightly on the blade, coming extremely close to piercing Elizabeth's skin. "Consider a moment, Mrs. Norrington, who it is you are pushing. The man I love is dead. My home is sitting on the sand beneath the Caribbean sea. I have nothing left to lose."

"Admiral Norrington?" a cry came from the house.

Ana brusquely pushed Elizabeth away, and concealed the dagger behind her back. "Lucky girl," she sneered.

88888

"On the terrace." James sighed. He didn't particularly care for Captain Gillette. Most days, he rather detested the man, but today he was relieved by Gillette's appearance. Very relieved. Annie was a pirate, and a woman in mourning. She didn't have a whole lot left to lose, and she had very clearly been angry with Elizabeth. She might have dared to cross the line and injure, or possibly even kill, his wife. But, she was not desperate enough to do it in front of two high ranking officers of the Royal Navy.

"Sir," the Captain greeted, bringing his hand to touch the brim of his hat. "A French frigate's in the bay, Sir."

Norrington's brow's came together. "And do you mind telling me, why you let a Frenchman into my harbor?"

"Hit by pirates," Gillette explained. "They ask for a cessation of hostilities so they can refit." Norrington's brow rose again, sensing a trick. "They are willing to pay twice what supplies would be worth."

"Are they, indeed?" James mused. "Did they happen to mention which pirate caused the trouble?"

"Lefty Scott."

Casting a surreptitious glance at Annie, who only smiled innocently, Norrington rolled his eyes. "Lefty Scott preying on the frogs," he said. "Well, that sounds about right. I may almost be sad when the day comes that he's killed or captured."

"Sir!" Gillette was more than scandalized.

"Keep in mind, Captain, that an enemy of an enemy can be very useful," James smirked. He was beginning to understand the fascination that Prescott always held for saying things for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of someone. "And any enemy of France can be much more than that," he finished.

"Yes, Sir." Gillette agreed, but he was not, by any means, convinced.

Norrington sighed again. "I'll be to the docks presently, Captain," he said, dismissing his subordinate. "Ladies," he turned to Annie and Elizabeth, who were both wearing foul, uninviting expressions. "We have all committed sins. Please, let this conversation be finished."

"I believe it was more than finished, James," Annie answered, fingering the dagger's blade. She shot a dark glance at Elizabeth before strutting confidently back to the house. Elizabeth, arms crossed, huffed and turned her back to her husband.

James exhaled, and shook his head as he made for the study. Perhaps a few Frenchmen would be preferable to dealing with Annie and his wife. He was almost thankful for the arrival of England's enemy. In the study, James found his hat, decked out with feathers, brocade, and all the useless adornments worn by an Admiral. His equally ornate sword lay across his desk. Grasping for the weapon, he was hopelessly shocked when a hand closed around his wrist.

"Off to do battle with the wicked Frenchmen?" a familiar voice asked.

James turned to stare into a pair of blue eyes that he hadn't seen in well over five years. Eyes he had believed to be closed in death. "Prescott?"

"Hello, James."

TBC

Well, well, fireworks ... as promised. So, everyone who bet on Miss Ana (and who wouldn't) go right ahead and collect!

Alicia: Happy Birthday! Feel absolutely free to regard my updates as a birthday gift. I hope it brought you enjoyment. You're so right about Lizzie. She knows she will never feel for James, what she felt for Will. But, James is still her husband and he's supposed to be faithful, even though, she's been unfaithful (in a way) their whole marriage. She's being completely unfair, and I think that was the point Ana tried to make with this confrontation (she may have gone a bit to far to get the message across). And, about John, I didn't really explain where he was during all of this (bad author) but let's just say he's gone out and, thankfully, didn't have to see Ana hand his mother her ass on a plate!

Cal: I'm glad my description of Pres' cabin kinda tugged at the old heartstrings. I think that, while Jack never felt truly at peace anywhere but on his _Pearl_, Prescott's ship was a close second, and seeing that things haven't really changed too much probably gave Jack a twinkling of hope that he may still have a home left even after the _Pearl_ has gone. Now, as for Ana wasting her life, well, remember you're reading Jack's memories. He's just dwelling on all the things he didn't do for his first mate. Granted, he should have done most, if not all, of those things, but he isn't really thinking on everything he did do for her. It does seem like Jack didn't deserve her, because that's what he truly believes. He doesn't feel worth loving. Ana, however, does believe he's worth it. She's no idiot. As you've noticed, she's left behind a trail of broken hearts. She could have almost any man she wants, but she stays with Jack because he's the perfect fit. I'm sure she's angry when he does stupid things, like stepping out, but I also think that after the immediate anger fades, she understands why he does those stupid things. So, I hope that novel length explanation made some sense, oh, and I hope you liked Ana vs. Lizzie.

Yuna-Flowering: Sorry there's confusion about the ages. I went back through and scanned this story, and I didn't find the descrepancies. But, to set the record straight, this story takes place 20 years after the movie. It has been almost 30 years since Jack and Ana first met. Prescott and James are late fifties. Jack and Ana are early fifties. And Liz is late thirties. If there's a place where I say something different, please let me know, and I'll fix it.

DyingStar: You understand Jack's feelings exactly. He promised to tell Ana everything back when he thought she was dead, and he wouldn't get the chance. Now that he has to make good on that promise, he's scared to death. I'm still working on their reunion, but it will certainly prove interesting!

SylviaD: Well, I'm sure there had to be some peace and tranquility in there somewhere, but it's the crisis points that are so much more interesting to write about. I know I seem to put characters we all love through hell, but we love these characters because of their determination and integrity. They've been kicked to the ground hundreds of times, and never stayed down. And yes, Prescott to the rescue. He's here, how can things possibly go wrong? Well, as you can already tell, nothing in this story is wine and roses, but don't be downhearted. Stick with it, and I'll try to do it right!

Nykky: I'm glad you liked the chappy between Jack and Prescott. Ol' Scotty's a bit volotile, but he can't stay mad at Jack forever. I almost see these two as being like war buddies. They've been through battle after battle, fighting side by side, ready to face death for each other. So, they may not like each other all the time, but the love of brothers runs deep enough to weather the storms.

Well, as always thanks for the feedback. And, I hate to end on a sad note, but I could use some warm and fuzzies in the next set of reviews. My husband and I got two kittens last Saturday, and one of them was killed last night, so I'm feeling pretty rotten and could use a bit of cheering up. Thanks.


	16. Not Just A Memory

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from PotC.

**Chapter Sixteen:**

"Off to do battle with the wicked Frenchmen?" a familiar voice chided.

Looking up, James turned to stare into a pair of blue eyes that he hadn't seen in well over five years. Eyes he had believed to be closed in death. "Prescott?"

"Hello, James," the other man greeted, his voice light and genial as ever.

Prescott Tarret, feared pirate now and a loyal friend a lifetime ago, stepped out of the shadows into the dim light of the study. James bit off a startled gasp. Where his own hair had turned as white as the wigs he used to wear, Prescott's was still the same shade of coppery brown it had been the day James first met the intrepid captain. Long, thin streaks of gray sprouted up at his temples, disappeared beneath his wide brimmed hat, and spilled out down his slightly wavy pigtail, but where James looked old, Prescott looked ageless. Instead of being marred and disjointed by wrinkles, the skin of his face was taut and tanned as fine leather. His icy blue eyes still glinted with mischief and a deeper, sly cunning that few men ever possessed.

James did not know if the freedom or the danger of piracy kept Prescott young, but something surely had acted as a fountain of youth. No doubt the former Navy hero could turn as many heads now as he had in his twenties. Prescott was the kind of pirate that authors would someday write romance tales about. The dashing rogue who was both a gentleman and a scoundrel, with a heart of pure gold beating within his chest. He had a quick wit, a devilish smile, and an infuriating habit of continually outsmarting James and the rest of the Royal Navy.

"For heaven's sake, James, quit staring at me like that," Prescott remarked, his smile revealing only a few telltale lines around his eyes and mouth. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"There aren't any Frenchmen in my harbor, are there?" James asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," Prescott's smile widened. "But there are a good number of pirates with one hell of a froggy accent saying _'Je ne comprend pas."_ He winked as he said words in a perfectly spoken enemy language.

"Prescott Tarret speaking French? What is this world coming to?" James made an attempt at a joke, but there was no mirth in his voice. He could only think on the fact that if Annie's older brother had arrived, then she would soon be leaving and his life with a woman he did not love would continue indefinitely. Not that James wished bad things for Elizabeth, but, for once, he simply wanted the good thing that had happened in his life to go on a while longer.

Then, almost as though thinking of her had made her appear, Elizabeth burst through the office doors. "James," she was saying, like she had been speaking the whole way up from the veranda. Her voice was a harsh whisper, probably meant to keep Annie and the servants from overhearing. "No matter what you intend to do about this debacle, I am still your wife. I will not tolerate being completely disregarded like – " She abruptly stopped moving and speaking, almost like she'd walked into a clear glass wall in the middle of the room, upon seeing that her husband was not alone in his study. Her brown eyes narrowed as she glared at the spot where Prescott's right arm would have been and saw that the sleeve of his bright white shirt had been pinned. She instantly recognized Lefty Scott, for she had met him prior to this day. A further narrowing of her eyes indicating that her memories of that encounter were less than pleasant.

The pirate smirked, seemingly amused by the effect he had on the blonde woman. Prescott had once commented that Elizabeth reminded him of his former wife, no doubt that was part of the reason he enjoyed antagonizing her. "Wedded bliss," he started. "T'is quite a thing to behold."

"I trust you're here to collect your sister," Elizabeth said, her voice haughty and cold. James wished he will her to give up this particular fight and just leave, but he knew he could no more do that than he could walk on water.

Prescott nodded, his smirk not wavering.

"Good," Norrington's wife declared. "Her unseemly behavior has caused quite enough trouble." Elizabeth lifted her chin so that she could look down her nose at Prescott, despite their difference in height.

James almost sighed. This was precisely the kind of confrontation he had been hoping to avoid. Letting his eyes flutter closed, he brought his hand to his brow, knowing full well what would come next. Elizabeth had once gone to sea, following her love interest Will Turner, and lived aboard the _Black Pearl_ with Jack Sparrow. Her stubbornness had been an asset, and she had somehow managed to curb the holier than thou attitude characteristic of governor's daughters. Jack Sparrow, however, partly owed his life to Elizabeth. She could get away with a little snobbishness because Jack had considered her a friend. Prescott was a different story entirely. He harbored no such amiable feelings towards the woman. In fact, he openly disliked her.

The chiding smirk vanished, and James saw Lefty Scott, not Prescott Tarret, standing in his study. "Miss Swann," he began.

"Mrs. Norrington," Elizabeth corrected.

"Do not interrupt," Prescott instructed. "I've neither the time nor the heart to touch on the particular tragedy of your marriage."

Elizabeth looked as though she intended to respond. James shot her a warning stare and shook his head slightly.

"As I was saying," Prescott's glance shifted briefly to Norrington, indicating that he'd seen James send his wife a silent message. "There are two kinds of pirates in our world, Miss Elizabeth." The fact that he didn't call her Mrs. Norrington did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth or her husband. "There's the kind who believes he owes you some sort of courtesy because you once helped him escape the noose, and then there's the sort who's seen through your self-righteous charade and doesn't give a damn about your opinion." Prescott paused, his glare deadly serious. "Be certain you know which sort you're dealing with before you make the mistake of insulting someone he loves."

"You dare to threaten me in my own home?" Elizabeth said.

Prescott closed the distance between himself and the lady, so that he stood at her shoulder towering nearly a foot above her. "Do not cross me, Miss Elizabeth," he said. "That is a warning, not a threat."

"Prescott," James finally interjected. Elizabeth was behaving like a spoiled child, and James was appalled that she hadn't learned to curb her tongue after the affair on the porch, but he felt responsible for defending her just the same. "I'll not have you speak to my wife in such a manner."

Turning back to Norrington, the amused smirk reappeared on the pirate's face. "Yet, you will allow my sister to hold a knife to her throat?"

James' mouth fell open.

"Your office affords quite a nice view of the patio," Prescott observed offhandedly. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he leered back at Elizabeth. "What did you say to her?"

The lady's eyebrow rose, and James wanted to run across the room and plant his hand in front of her lips. "I only called her out as the tart she truly is." Norrington drew in a deep breath. He almost could have hit her.

Nothing about Prescott's posture or expression changed, but he suddenly became a crouched panther, poised to strike. Unbeknownst to her, Elizabeth may have never been in more danger than she was at this moment. "My dear," Prescott started. "If you are fond of your tongue's present position inside of your mouth, I would advise you to use it a bit less." Elizabeth, mercifully, kept silent. Despite his whisper, leaned in close to the lady's ear, James heard Prescott's next words quite clearly. "I've killed much better people than you, Sweet Elizabeth."

James paled at the edge in Prescott's voice. He had no doubt in the truth of that statement. Elizabeth's fists clenched at her sides. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll leave it to Anamaria to tell you how she's disrupted my house." Turning on her heels, Norrington's wife left the study, slamming the double doors behind her.

When Norrington finally met Prescott's eyes again, he saw there a knowing suspicion. James quickly banished thoughts of last night when he'd lain with Annie, so that her brother would not be able to see a replay on his face. Prescott shifted his weight and brought one up across his chest, a gesture no doubt left over from a time when he'd two arms to cross. "What is she talking about, James?" he asked, the muscles in his jaw twitched slightly. "For, I can think of only one disruption my sister could create that would infuriate the wife but bear no mention from the husband."

Damn his eyes, why did Prescott always have to be so bloody perceptive. James lowered his eyes, for the first time feeling very ashamed of his indiscretion.

"I wonder," Prescott started, seeming to derive an answer from Norrington's body language. "Why it is you never just told her how you felt."

A hundred different reasons came to James' mind, none of which he could voice to Annie's brother. He couldn't tell Prescott that her dark skin set her so apart from proper society that only a man who cared nothing for his status could wed her. No more could he bring up the fact that Prescott's own indecorous behavior, giving up the position of Admiral, caused Annie to fall further from grace. So, he said the most embarrassing of all the reasons, "Every man your sister has ever met has been instantly at her feet," he started. "I would have been just another in a very long line."

The pirate's expression implied that he knew there was more to it than that, but he said nothing to that effect. His normally communicative blue eyes were unreadable beyond that faint disbelief.

"I …I am not proud of my behavior," James said. "But, I do not regret what I did."

"That is well, James, for you may find yourself having to fight for her."

Norrington's brow furrowed. "Fight?" he repeated questioningly. "Fight who?" Prescott said nothing, but some how his silence was louder than any words could have been. Jack Sparrow. But how could that be? Certainly doing battle with Sparrow's memory would not prove so difficult … James' eyes widened with understanding. Not so difficult unless, that is, Sparrow was not simply a memory. He felt his eyes widen further as his jaw clenched and unclenched. He sought Prescott's face, which was still stony and impassive. "My God," James breathed. "He isn't dead."

TBC

Well, it's been far too long, but I have by no means abandoned this story. So, stick with me and, as always, have patience, and I'll get it finished!

Alicia: I agree that it certainly would've been interesting to see John stick around for Ana and Liz's little altercation. I wonder how he would've reacted to all that! Your predictions about the mystery ship weren't exactly on the mark, but you were right to be suspicious of the ship (as this chapter proved) and you may still be right to be worried about Gilette (awful of me to leave vague hints like that, isn't it). Lastly, while this reunion wasn't particularly horrible, next chapter will finally put Ana and Jack back together, so you can look forward to much awkwardness and much angst!

SylviaD:You're warming to it, I'm beyond happy! This is a sad, angsty story, there's no getting around that, but I'm glad you're seeing a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. I think you're seeing a little less gloom and doom b/c Ana's starting to act like the Ana we all know and love. She isn't just silently taking what Lizzie has to dish out, she's fighting back. I think the doomed feeling you got from this story could have been caused by the fact that both our heroes had appeared to have given up. That is depressing. But, and I hope I'm not giving too much away, neither Ana nor Jack will take much more lying down, and you can't help but feel hopeful when the characters decide to stand up and fight for themselves and each other! One other note, about everyone's ages. You're absolutely right, they're in the twilight years. As you already mentioned, most people in this time period don't get to live out their wildest dreams. Jack, Pres, and Ana did just that, however. So, I would imagine that living the life they wanted would keep them young. As for James, well he probably does feel a bit old, but lets not forget he's the Admiral married to a governor's daughter. He's enjoying a life of priviledge and leisure, so it's not like he's got it so bad either. So, you can picture them in your head however you like, cause I think they still have the spirit of the people we met in the movie!

Cal: First of all, I'm so happy you picked up on the fact that Ana would not be called a gutter rat, cause I did use that same term to describe the company Jack had been keeping in Tortuga. I appreciate it so much when you notice stuff like that! I'm interested that you started to have a bit of sympathy for ol' Lizzie. I mean, I obviously don't much care for her, but you're right, you've gotta feel bad for her. Here she was thinking that Norry was completely enamored with her, and now she comes to find out that she isnt' the only one who had stronger feelings for someone else. That's got to feel like a brick to the gut. But, again, you're on the same wavelength as I am when thinking about Will. I don't know what it is about Will, but he just seemed like such a tragic character. The way he loves Lizzie in the movie and is prepared to do anything for her, just left me feeling like he would get burned eventually. (How's that for cynical). And for my last bit of Liz bashing in this author's note, I'm glad you were outraged about her treatement of Will, Ana, and Jack on the _Pearl_. I think she probably couldn't help it. She really wanted to fit in with that life, but years of upper class breeding were working against her, so that she just couldn't be happy at sea. What really makes me sad is that she looked down her nose at Jack, cause that's just one more friend who's turned their back on him. Lastly, thanks for the sympathy for my kitten. I went and found a new friend for my remaining kitten and they seem very happy, so life goes on.

Yuna-Flowering: Well, here was the first of many interesting reunions. I hope I did not disappoint. And I do apologize for cutting short the epic arguement with Pres' arrival. Did this encounter make up for it, a little bit?

Ailidh: Thanks so much for leaving a review, I'm glad my stories seem to have ensnared you! And as long as my wonderful reviewers demand, I will certainly continue writing.

An-Angel-In-Hell: Thanks for the sympathy, and I'm glad you enjoyed the chappy. Pardon me for being a bit flighty, but I just noticed your name, are you a Phantom of the Operafan as well? I was just visiting my parents in Arizona and my mom and I went and saw it for the fourth time on stage. Yeah, I'm a bit obsessive. Anyway, just wondering.

DyingStar:Rooting for Lizzie, huh? Well, I have to give Ana the upper hand cause I love her, but I was interested in your opinions of Liz and Will. You're absolutely right, that we can't blame everything on Liz. Will was a bit weak to let go of his life since he couldn't have Liz in it, and that is a comparison I wanted to make with this story. Jack and Ana just thought they lost their one true love, and while Jack may have given in to his grief more than Ana, neither of them just gave up. They were both trying to move on, and I did want to contrast their strength with Will's lack thereof.So, thanks for picking up on that. As for Norry, well, he isn't really a coward. He just doesn't know who to step in and stick up for. If he supports Liz, then he betrays the woman he really cares for. If he sticks up for Ana, then he faces all sorts of problems with the woman he's more or less stuck with. It's quite the quandary.

Johnny-Cakes-Depp: I'm so glad to hear that you love Scotty, cause so do I. I hope you appreciated him in this chappy. As for more Jack, well, that's what the next chapter will be about, so stay tuned!

THANKS for all of the wonderful reviews!


	17. Speechless

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from PotC.

**Chapter Seventeen: "Speechless"**

If he had been asked, at any point during his long and colorful career, he would have scoffed at the notion of ever standing inside the mansion owned by the Admiral of the West Indies. He certainly would never be an invited guess and he'd no desire to break into the lavish fortress, not because he thought himself unfit for the task, but a pirate's life is dictated by profit. What profit could possibly be worth the risk of being caught red handed by James Norrington or any of his predecessors? He would never have dreamed that he, Captain Jack Sparrow, would indeed enter the Admiral's estate or that he would be nervous about doing so. Despite any expectations, Jack stood fidgeting in Norrington's upstairs hallway feeling incredibly tense, for, behind one of these doors, Anamaria was waiting. She probably still thought him dead and was not actually awaiting his return, but she was waiting just the same, for the words and explanations she deserved.

Jack drew in a deep breath. He should simply get it over with, barge into the room, tell her the truth, and beg her forgiveness. The blow could crush his pride and destroy what was left of his life, but at least it would be done quickly. He shook his head self-depreciatingly. His pride. What in bloody hell did his pride matter at this point? It was that same inflated self-image that had kept him from speaking true to Ana in the past. Friends and enemies alike had told him that his ego would someday be the end of him. Prescott had always said Jack was as proud as Lucifer and as dumb as a barnacle. Apparently, the older pirate had known what he was talking about.

"You're him, aren't you?" a voice interrupted Jack's pitiful thoughts.

The pirate spun around, arms out from his sides in his characteristic drunken, half mad stance. A young man clad in the uniform of a Royal Navy midshipman stared back through wide brown eyes that were tastefully showcased by reams of sandy blonde hair. The midshipman had a chiseled, blue-blooded face complete with a fine nose and one eyebrow that arched more than the other. Jack felt a wound deep in his heart reopen. He'd seen those eyes before. "Elizabeth," he mouthed silently.

"You're Jack Sparrow," the young officer clarified after a few moments spent beneath the pirate's silent scrutiny.

Jack wanted to say "No." He wanted to wipe that damnedable wonderstruck expression off the young man's face. He did not want to hear this boy echo the questions his mother had asked so many years earlier. _Are you the pirate I've read about or not? _He could still hear Elizabeth's voice, enraged to find out that rumrunners had rescued Jack from the island, not sea turtles or friendly natives. _Is there any truth to the other stories, then?_ Truth. Oh yes, Jack had showed the angry aristocrat the truth of those stories. Bullet wounds, a disfigured left arm, and the telltale pirate brand testified to the truth behind the mythical Jack Sparrow. Sure, he'd sacked Nassau without gunfire, the town guard had ambushed his crew so deftly that even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't have had the time to fire off a round. He had vanished without a trace from the hold in an East India Trading Company ship, but he'd been beaten senseless and nearly drowned swimming to shore. And, yes, he had outsmarted the twisted Don Antonio Cornado, but were it not for the help of a certain dark-skinned woman, he certainly would have died.

He was Jack Sparrow alright, not that this impressionable midshipman had any idea what that meant. The pirate sighed as he nodded, for he knew what the boy would ask next.

Elizebeth's son smiled slightly, his eyes widened. "The same Jack Sparrow who battled undead pirates to rescue my mother?" Jack nodded again, bracing himself for the inevitable inquiry. "She's told me the story. She's told me that you fell under the curse of Cortez's treasure as well. Since first hearing the tale, I've always wondered. What was it like being dead?"

Jack shivered, as he always did when forced to relive the horror of finally facing his mutinous first mate, Barbossa. He had taken one of the cursed coins from the Aztec chest not out of greed or curiosity, as had been his excuse in the past. Instead, he took one of those coins because he knew what he'd known all ten years he spent without his beloved _Pearl_. He could not best Barbossa in a swordfight, dead or alive or anywhere in between.

What was it like to be dead? Jack never knew how to answer that question in spite of the number of times he'd been asked. What could he tell this boy who was meeting a character from his mother's stories? He could describe the unspeakable pain that hit every corner of his body when Barbossa had plunged the sword into his chest. He could try to explain the complete void that followed the pain in which he didn't feel anything at all, not the blood running down his skin nor the damp cave air. Nothing. At the time, the lack of feeling was terrifying. Now, to feel nothing would have been a great relief.

Suddenly, his eye was drawn to the grand staircase behind the midshipman, to the woman in a borrowed dress who had just reached the second floor. Hand still on the rail, the lady's mouth fell open and her amber eyes misted over. The dagger she had been carrying fell to the floor with a earsplitting clang that reverberated throughout the entire house.

What was it like to be dead? "It's easier than livin, lad," Jack answered cryptically, as he stared into Ana's face.

88888

She heard the ornately carved knife hit the polished marble floor tiles, but the loud noise sounded very far away. The house, the Norringtons, the argument she'd just had on the patio, everything seemed far away except those eyes. Haunting in their familiarity, deep and black and … alive. Those eyes that had been the last thing she saw before their home exploded and she was thrown into the sea.

_"Fire!" Jack's voice bellowed over the cacophony of battle. The drunken, babbling madman that usually stood on the quarterdeck was nowhere to be seen. In his place, was the _Black Pearl_'s indomitable leader, the finest sailor and the fiercest fighter Ana had ever known. A capable commander who knew every inch of his ship and every skill of his crew. She sought his eyes, those fathomless depths that had always held his true thoughts. She knew what she expected to see there, but seeing it still frightened her. Her all-knowing Captain knew that this was one fight he should've avoided. _

_The _Black Pearl's_ ten remaining starboard guns rang out as one, answering their Captain's order. The deck shook from the force of the recoil. Each shot found it's mark on the fast closing British frigate, but the enemy kept coming, never so much as a pause. The Navy ship had been disguised as a merchantman, a thin ruse, and one they should have been able to see through, but that didn't matter now._

_"Reload!" the gunner, Matelot, shouted and each gun crew hurried to do so. _

_Matelot started to yell something else, another order or a reprimand. Ana would never know. The Navy frigate fired with almost twice as many guns as the _Pearl_. Wood splintered. Sails ripped apart. Another gun tore loose from the side. Ana didn't see Matelot go down. He simply was there one moment and gone the next. "Get that cleared away," Ana shouted as she rushed to take the departed gunner's post. She didn't actually know a whole lot about the guns, but there was no one else. "It's our lives on the line, damn you. Reload!" The men, covered in blood and gunpowder, rallied around their first mate. _

_Scanning the battered deck, she saw Jack racing to the quarterdeck as Gibbs' lifeless body slumped over the wheel. Cotton's parrot was flapping around her head, squawking and screeching. Not far from where she stood, Cotton was lying in an expanding pool of blood, a splinter protruding from his thigh. "Surgeon!" Ana screamed._

_The carpenter, Duncan, was suddenly at her side. "Surgeon's dead," he said._

_Ana shot Cotton a glance. His leg was bleeding profusely, without a doctor on board he would lose it at best, or die at worst. "You do it, then," she ordered._

_"But, I'm not …I'm no' a surgeon."_

_"You are now." Duncan's face went as pale as the man he would have to operate on, but he nodded._

_Turning back to the guns, Ana saw that they were not yet brought to bear. Looking out to sea, she saw the Navy ship coming around. In no time, they would face another twenty-gun broadside. "What's keeping those powder monkeys?" she snarled, not really expecting anyone to answer. They could not afford to face two rounds of enemy fire to their one. She stalked below decks. Arriving at the magazine, she stopped short bringing her hand to cover her mouth. The room was a mess of blood. The powder monkeys, no more than boys, had been torn to pieces. A gasp escape her lips, amidst the horrific scene, she saw a sailor's worst nightmare: flames in the magazine._

_Running as fast as her legs would carry her, she sped to the deck. "Jack!" she yelled. The pirate Captain's eyes found her. They widened, and Jack looked as though he knew what she was about to say, but her warning came too late. The _Black Pearl_ erupted in a deafening explosion, and Ana hit the water believing she would never see Jack in this life again._

Looking into Jack's eyes, Ana could tell that he too was revisiting their last battle. Maybe he was blaming himself. Maybe he was wondering why she hadn't run across the room and threw her arms around his neck. She was wondering that, too. Unfortunately, she could feel the answer pricking at the back of her neck like an annoying mosquito. She didn't hasten to his embrace, because she could still feel James' hands on her body. She could hear her name on his lips.

They had both known that grief had brought her to his bed. Ana had told James that she would probably grow to regret their night together. She sought temporary comfort in his arms and knew she would not stay with him. She had been fully prepared for many nights crying herself to sleep, thinking about how laying with Norrington had been a betrayal of the man she truly loved. What she didn't prepare for was not regretting her actions, not wanting to leave James.

"John," she addressed Norrington's son, surprised to find that her voice was clear and unwavering. "May I have a moment alone with Captain Sparrow?"

88888

Jack body stiffened, his heart ached. Ana was probably just keeping up appearances. Not good for the fierce piratess to break down and become emotional in front of the Navy, but her words still stung. _Captain Sparrow,_ not Jack. How many exasperated times had he told his first mate to call him by his title, and she always refused. _Not with me, you aren't_, she would say. Something had changed.

The young midshipman nodded, still looking confused by the way Jack had answered his question. Turning on his heel, he walked down the hall, leaving Jack and Ana standing at the top of the steps staring at one another. Jack pulled off his hat, more because he needed something to fiddle with, than because he cared anything for decorum. Ana took a few steps closer, still not exactly running to his arms. "How?" she asked.

Jack's brow rose. "Another conveniently located desert island," he said, doing a perfect Captain Sparrow imitation. "Complete with a pirate doing penance for his life of crime, natives, and a ship." Turning the hat over and over in his hands, he searched for the courage to tell her what he'd come to say.

"Is Prescott with you?" she said.

He nodded absently. _Just say it, damn you_, he heard a voice within his head that sounded an awful lot like Scotty.

88888

So, this was it. Prescott had come for her, and he'd brought Jack. Ana was expected to be so filled with joy that she would want to immediately return to Tortuga and get on with her life. But, how could anything go back to normal now? She _was_ overjoyed that Jack was alive. Facing the rest of her days without him would have been a hellish existence. Still, his reappearance at a most inopportune moment called to Ana's mind all the nights she'd spent alone on the _Pearl_. So many nights, knowing full well that Jack was ashore with someone else. She knew that those women didn't mean anything to him. Jack had lived a life that taught him never to trust anyone. He'd been a man betrayed one too many times. He only went for other company when he'd let Ana get too close. She could hurt him, and that scared the infamous pirate. But, in twenty years sailing with Jack, Ana had only once ever given him reason to believe he couldn't trust her. She was tired of living up to unreachable expectations. She was tired of feeling like she would never be worthy of Jack's confidence.

Her brother had risked a lot coming back to Kingston. It wasn't likely that Norrington would hang Prescott, but nor was it unlikely. Either way, Prescott could not wait around for his sister to debate her future. She needed to make a decision. Which life did she want to go back to, one as a dark-skinned, upper class woman or one as a lady pirate?

Jack, who had been silent, save for answering her first question, slung his hat over one of the spindles on the railing. He closed the distance between them slowly, but deliberately. He stopped directly in front of her, so close that she could smell the spicy scent of rum mixing with the salty aroma of the sea. Tentatively, he fingered the small pendant that she'd worn around her neck every day since he'd given it to her. A lifetime ago, he'd snuck into her house disguised as a priest and told her that he'd seen the tiger's eye necklace in a shop and thought of her.

"I thought ye'd gone," he said softly. There was pain in his voice and Ana had to swallow the tears that wanted to form. Letting go of the tiger's eye pendant, Jack's hands clasped her own. "I thought ye'd gone before I could tell ye that …" His black eyes met Ana's. "I love you."

Ana's jaw hung open for the second time that day. She had always told herself that Jack loved her, but she had almost given up on hearing him say so. She chewed on her bottom lip, not knowing how to respond. _I love you, too_ would sound so jilted, since only seconds ago she'd been contemplating leaving Jack and only last night she'd known another man.

Jack lowered his eyes, probably taking her silence as some sort of rejection, but she could not find her voice. The valiant pirate Captain sunk down to his knees, defeated. He wrapped his arms around Ana's waist as a drowning man would cling to a piece of wood. Her heart broke. In her life, she'd never seen Jack so vulnerably honest. She ran her hand soothingly over his long dark hair. She wanted to say something, anything, to reassure the pirate, but the words stuck like glue in her throat.

"On your feet, Sparrow," James Norrington's voice thundered from the stairs behind, his words accentuated by the metallic whistle of a sword being freed from it's scabbard.

The pirate Captain laboriously rose to his feet, taking few pains to hide his grieved demeanor. Ana spun around, unconsciously placing her body in front of Jack. James, cutlass in hand, was glaring over her shoulder. Prescott, who had stopped on the top stair, was glaring straight at her. Nearly a year had passed since Ana had last seen her elder brother, but she could still read his thoughts clear as day. He knew about her and James.

She was vaguely aware of Norrington stepping past her and threatening Jack. He was saying something about the audacity of coming into the Admiral's house. She could hear jealousy in his tone. But, despite the tense scene unfolding behind her, Ana could not tear her face away from Prescott. His black hat kept his thoughts, as well as his eyes, in shadow. He knew what she'd done, that was obvious. However, she had no idea how Prescott felt about aforementioned knowledge.

"You've come for Annie," James stated. "I cannot influence her decision to stay or go, but I can very strongly suggest that you remove yourself from my home, or the only place she will be able to accompany you is to the gallows."

Prescott rested his hand easily on the hilt of his sword, but did not draw. Raising his chin, he seemed to tell Ana that the next move was hers. She turned back to Jack, who stood facing James with all semblance of defiance gone from his visage. Drawing a deep breath, Ana uttered words she never thought she would say. "Jack,perhaps you should go."

TBC

Voila! The reunion has finally arrived. I'll be waiting on the edge of my seat for your reviews. I'd love to know if this was everything you expected. I have to admit, I hope that I left you wanting more, cause I've got a few ideas left and I'm certainly not finished with this!

DyingStar: First of all, you were perfectly justified in being a little worried when Prescott was verbally assaulting Miss Lizzie. Self restraint is not one of his stronger qualities. Still, pirate or not, he is a gentleman at heart and he would have to be pushed really far to physically harm any woman. Ana is just the only family he has left and he will go to any lengths to defend his baby sister.And I am sorry that you were aching for some Jack/Ana interaction in the last chappies. I hope this quenched your thirst for a little while at least!

An-Angel-In-Hell: Not sure if your back from Arizona or not, but I hope you got a chance to see Phantom. And I hope my update will be a pleasant surprise upon your return home!

BlackMary47: I'm so happy to hear that your hooked on both of mystories, and I hope this reunion was worth the wait!

Alicia: Sometimes you do just have to shake your head and sigh "Poor Norry," don't you? I do love his character as well, though it may be hard to tell from the hell I put him through. I don't want to see harm come to him, but he certainly is in quite a spot now, isn't he? As for the lieutenants, well, I needed a bit of a villain and Gillette won the coin toss. So, keep your eye on him. As far as Groves, I have some plans for him too, but not in this particular tale. I hope exams went well for you andI hope no professors were harmed by the roaring flames that were your term paper!

SylviaD: You're right, I do have a loose script in my head for the lives of all the characters in my stories, andI am giving a bit away by writing this and "Brothers" at the same time. But, with this as the only exception, all of my tales are prequels for the movie. In that case, we all know that Jack and Ana will end up on a dock in Tortuga yelling about a stolen ship. But, reading about the beginnings of their relationship isn't any less interesting (at least I hope not) So, yes, a few things are certain, like who lives and who dies, but I hope the drama of the earlier stories isn't ruined any by knowing a bit of the future. As for Prescott's reaction to Ana's indescretion, that is yet to come, but I did finally give you the reunion, so I'd love to know what you thought of that!

Cal: I have to say, I'm happy to hear that my interaction between Pres and Liz had you cursing at the monitor and doing a bit of frothing. I don't know exactly why I don't like her, but boy did I love Pres a little more with each insult. You just have to feel for Norry when he's probably agreeing with Pres on most counts, but he can't say a thing about it. He even has to go so far as to defend little Lizzie, when clearly his heart has always belonged to a totally different woman (different in just about every way). I'm also happy to hear that you enjoyed the little scene between Pres and Norry when Pres finds out what Ana's done. I think when Pres asks why Norry never told Ana about his true feelings, he really wants to know. He was friends with Norry for a long time and he had to know that Norry was infactuated with Ana. You have to wonder if even Prescott doesn't wonder what Ana's life could have been like if she had lived it with a man like James. Now, stop reading the notes, cause I have to know what you think of the reunion!

Yuna-flowering: You're absolutely right, Scarlett must have something to do with keeping Pres young and, er, limber!... sorry, dirty thoughts. Anyway, I hope you liked the update!

Thank you as always for all of the kind reviews. Your feedback makes me feel all warm and fuzzy while I write!


	18. Perhaps You Should Go

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from PotC.

**Chapter Eighteen: "Perhaps you should go"**

Drawing a deep breath, Ana uttered words she never thought she would say. "Jack, perhaps you should go." She was careful to keep her gaze fixed on nothing as she spoke. If she watched no one, she wouldn't see the further slumping of a pirate Captain's normally proud shoulders, the slight, disbelieving smile that colored an Admiral's thin lips, or the smoldering fire in her brother's blue eyes. She heard Jack let loose a ragged sigh, but no one moved.

Unknowingly, Ana was caught up in the calm before the storm. The tense moments after windows had been boarded up and children called inside. No further preparations could be made. Townsfolk could only stand near their homes gazing silently out to see at the approaching black clouds. Soon, the winds would pick up, the sky would go dark, and the rain would begin to fall. Thunder would boom, lightning would strike, and waves would crash upon the shore. But, for now, the ominous clouds were concealed just beyond the horizon.

James cleared his throat. "The lady asked you to leave," he reiterated Ana's request, his voice soft, not pompous. She was grateful for his tact, but somewhat disturbed by the faint note of victory in his statement. Even if there were indeed a battle for her affections, a victor had not been named, yet. She knew, of course, that a choice would have to be made. However, the choice was more than one man pitted against another. She would be deciding between two utterly different lives. James merely represented one, and Jack the other. But, her future could not be determined in one instant, no matter how much the danger escalated for Jack and Prescott the longer they waited for her.

"Thank you, James," Prescott's voice was cold, aloof. "I assure you, years at sea have had no adverse effect on our hearing." His terse comments were addressed to Norrington, but all the venom that dripped from the words seeped into Ana's ears, poisoning her. Lifting her amber eyes, she stared evenly at her eldest brother. His face was uninviting, impassive, but his own eyes were ablaze. He was fighting the urge to say something, expecting her to back down. Her chin rose. She would not.

In the past, she had always trusted Prescott's judgment. He could remain clear and impartial in the most heated situations. This time was different. She was asking him to respect her decision, to respect the fact that she could not let things go on as they were. He clearly did not. He had made his choice and sided with Jack, against her.

Maybe Prescott could not see her predicament. Even Ana hated herself for saying the one thing that probably most hurt Jack. She had no wish to treat him unkindly, but she could not simply go back to the way things were. Jack Sparrow had to know that he could tread on her feelings only so long. He deserved to know how it felt to watch the one you love seek solace with another. And if this angered her brother, well, so be it.

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"Jack, perhaps you should go." Annie's voice wavered slightly as she spoke those words, but not with uncertainty. Her voice may have trembled, but only because the words it expressed surprised even her.

Prescott Tarret loved his little sister. She was the only family he had left. She was strong, and proud, and beautiful. She was a better pirate than most men he knew, and a better woman than anyone he knew. She'd seen Jack through some of his darkest hours, and she'd even saved Prescott's skin a time or two. Any day of his life, he would have happily died to protect her. However, in this moment, he had never liked Annie less.

Lifting her chin as Prescott glared at her, Annie stared back defiantly. In the past, her stubborn determination had been one of the qualities Prescott most admired in his sister, but tonight it only further infuriated him. He knew, now better than ever, that Jack was not perfect. Annie had been forced to put up with a pirate who felt like he could trust no one, not even the woman he loved. Prescott had no doubt that the mistakes Jack had made deserved some sort of retribution. He could not expect Annie to turn a blind eye to the pirate's every sin. Hell, only last night Prescott had been ready to kill Jack himself. But, how in God's green earth were Jack and Annie supposed to find happiness if they couldn't stop hurting one another? Someone was going to have to give in and just forgive. Annie, however, was unwilling, and Jack didn't know how.

Scowling, Prescott's grip around the hilt of his cutlass tightened. He briefly considered waving his sword around and demanding that everyone in the room start acting like they had been born with some degree of intelligence. While that might make him feel better, Prescott doubted that threatening his best friend, his sister, and the Admiral of the West Indies with a sword was really the best course of action. But, he could not quiet the urge, no matter how impractical. Just looking at Jack was breaking his heart.

The pirate Captain was a proud man. That pride had cost Jack many things in his life, but it had also served as an impregnable armor for the man beneath the bravado. Anyone could admit that Jack had not always done right by Annie. Prescott's gaze flickered to Norrington. Had Jack done so wrong to be stripped of that pride in front of his greatest adversary?

"Well, Captain Sparrow," Prescott spoke up, his voice softened by the hole Jack's grieved visage was blowing in his heart. He suddenly felt the need to get his best friend as far away from Annie and Norrington as possible. "Apparently, my sister has other plans this afternoon." Jack seemed not to hear. Prescott turned to James. He hadn't the time to properly process what had gone on between Annie and James, besides the obvious. But, Prescott would never defend James against his own brother. "Remember Admiral Norrington, she's a pirate," he flashed an ill-mannered grin. "If I were in your shoes, I'd keep an eye on the family jewels." James' brow rose in response to Prescott's implied warning. The former officer only smiled wider, knowing that Norrington had caught his double meaning.

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"Jack, perhaps you should go."

Silence … Then, a deafening roar.

Every time Jack had stood on deck with Ana, beneath a starry sky, he had stopped himself from professing his love for fear of hearing exactly what she'd just said. Not the precisely the words, but the tone of rejection in which she spoke them. Every time he had let his first mate get too close. Every time she'd fixed her devastating amber eyes on his own, and looked straight through him. Every time he'd been waiting to hear Ana tell him to stop hoping for something that wasn't going to happen, because she would never have him. So, he had turned tail and ran to the nearest empty bed, after all, for enough gold a whore would say anything. How simple it was to say _I love you_ and _I'll wait forever_ when saying so ensured payment. He'd ran from Ana because he had known from the first that he could do nothing to deserve her. Now, at least, they both knew it.

Anamaria had finally gotten the chance to remember her life before Jack Sparrow. Resplendent in a dazzling violet dress, she looked like the wealthy lady that she should have been. She was born for flowers in her hair and silk gowns, not sea spray and trousers. Jack had stolen Ana away from her life, and now, when faced with the choice, she had decided to leave him and return to the world she was intended to live in.

All the years Jack had spent wondering why Ana stayed on the _Pearl_, apparently, she had been wondering the same thing. He could beg her to come away with him. He could cry her pardon a thousand times. But, could he live with himself knowing that he'd be keeping her from the life she was meant to live?

No. He could not.

Slowly, the debilitating noise in his head began to subside. He heard Scotty saying something about leaving Ana to her business. The older pirate's words were genial enough, but Jack heard the unspoken warning to Norrington and Ana. Scotty expected to wait for his sister to come around and decide to leave with them. Jack knew better. Ana's mind seemed to be made up. She was through with piracy. Ana was through with him.

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"Jack, perhaps you should go."

The words seemed to echo inside of his brain, again and again, until he could almost believe that she had said them. From the moment Prescott had appeared in his study, James Norrington had been preparing himself for Annie's inevitable departure. When, he'd scaled the grand staircase and seen Annie with her hands in the pirate's hair, he had known that she was leaving. In that moment, he had steeled himself against all of the _I'm sorry_s and the corresponding_ It never would have worked between us_. Nowhere in his wildest imagination had he entertained the hope that Annie would choose to stay with him, and ask Sparrow to leave.

He should be happy. James had pined after Anamaria Tarret for so many long lonely years, but between her first husband, her overprotective big brother, and then a pirate, he'd never stood a chance. Annie was his friend, and he'd given up hoping for anything more. Then, last night, she had finally given him something more. She had given him everything. He should be strutting back and forth like a peacock with his feathers fanned. England's last true pirate enemy was standing, beaten, before him, and the sight was even tugging at James' heartstrings. This simply was not how it was supposed to end, with a feeble whimper in place of a glorious bang.

"Remember Admiral Norrington, she's a pirate," Prescott's words brought James back down from cloud nine. "If I were in your shoes, I'd keep an eye on the family jewels."

James lifted his eyebrows. He was shocked, but not really surprised by Prescott's vulgar word of caution. He was surprised, however, when Sparrow, without a single word, walked past him and headed down the stairs. He didn't utter a sound, nor did he look back. He'd even left his hat hanging on the railing.

"It seems our meeting has drawn to a close," Prescott began. He nodded curtly to Norrington, not sparing so much as a glance for Annie. "James," he said. "I'm certain those poor Frenchmen in your harbor can count on the complete cooperation of the British Navy, can they not."

Norrington smiled thinly. Prescott's words had not been a question, despite the fact that the former officer stood awaiting James' response. "So long as those Frenchmen agree to vanish into the morning mist," he agreed, daring Prescott to demand a longer cessation of hostilities.

Prescott quirked an eyebrow, his hand still resting confidently on his cutlass. "_Loyalty_ will sail at dawn," he said, turning to head downstairs. "And Annie will be aboard."

"You do not speak for me, Prescott," Annie spoke up, stopping her brother midway in his descent.

The older man's jaw twitched. "I know," he said, his voice menacingly low. "You're quite capable of saying quite enough all on your own."

"Pres – "

"Save your breath, Anamaria," the fearsome pirate had once again taken center stage, and even his sister seemed to recoil slightly. Prescott's eyes narrowed. "You've made your bed with a married man. Now, lie in it."

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The ambitious officer's mouth fell open. It really was Jack Sparrow, the very man who'd been evading capture for well over twenty years. The same man that had sacked Nassau and escaped from Spanish custody. The man who's neck hadbeen in the noose in Port Royale, and, he still managed to escape under the Navy's very nose.

Jack Sparrow just walked through Admiral James Norrington's own house, and no alarm was raised, no armed guard was in pursuit. Then, if matters weren't catestrophic enough, the only man following Sparrow out of the house was none other than Lefty Scott.

Slowly, he turned to the woman sharing his hiding spot in the shadows. He knew his jaw must be on the ground, and his eyes were probably popping out of his skull. Not one, but two of England's arch enemies had been inside of the Admiral's mansion.

The woman's brown eyes narrowed, as her brow rose. "See," she whispered. "I'm afraid the Admiral can no longer be trusted to act in England's best interest."

He nodded, still utterly speechless.

"Captain Gillette," the woman said. "You know what must be done?"

"The Admiral will have to be relieved of his command," the Captain said. "It will be difficult, but possible." He paused. "Are you sure, Mum? He is your husband."

Elizabeth Norrington pursed her lips. "I am sure."

TBC

Well, this update was a bit shorter than the last, but so many of you said you were leaving on various vacations, so I tried to get something up before you left! Not exactly a wine and roses reunion, but it keeps the plot twisting and turning and I hope you liked it anyway.

SylviaD: The last chappy was your favorite yet? I'm so happy, since you were a bit skeptical about this story in the beginning. I hope I've won you over! I know exactly what you mean about being understanding where Jack is concerned and angry about what Ana's done. I wonder if it's becauseJack's indescretions are self preservation, and really just about sex. Whereas, Ana goes to James for emotional support. They have a history, and she does love him (as a friend beforenow). It seems like more of a betrayal too, because James represents everything Ana gave up to go with Jack, and now she's going back. Almost as though she's saying it was a mistake to go after Jack all those year ago. I don't know if this sums up what you're feeling or not, but I can see what you mean.

BlackMary47: Even I had a hard time not writing about Ana smothering Jack in kisses and telling him how happy she was to see him, but, you're right, it just wouldn't have fit. So, I apologize for leaving you angry with Ana, but this story is far from over, and she may redeem herself yet.

Cal: First, I must humbly thank you for staying up so late into the night to review my story. I am at your feet my dear, Cal! So, onto your note. As for adding John to Ana's collection, I think she's having enough trouble with the men that are already in her life, but who knows what the muse holds in store. Now, I know it was a bit angsty, having to relive all of the horror of Jack's life, but Ana is finally standing up for herself, so you should take some pleasure in that, right? The "scales" over her eyes are most certainly gone. Hindsight, as usual, is 20/20, so she's beginning to see all the crap that she put up with. Sure, she still loves Jack, but she's starting to be angry about how he treated her. Now, about the one time where she gave Jack a reason to not trust her, yes, that will be a story somewhere along the line. I'm glad you appreciated the scene where Jack sinks to his knees. He's so unused to being at the mercy of others, that I imagined admitting his love would have just drained him. Have a good time on your vacation, I hope I got this up before you left!

An-Angel-in-Hell: They may yet find their way back to each other, but you know there has to be much more angst before that can happen. And I'm sorry you missed Phantom, I want to say it was going to Texas after Arizona, but Idon't know for sure.

DyingStar: Okay, I can see you're a bit upset. I didn't mean to make you angry at our beloved Ana, but she's going through a bit of turmoil herself. Of course she loves Jack, I think that's part of the reason she asked him to leave. Let me explain, they do not have a perfect relationship by any means. I think when faced with the real possiblility of his death, Ana is so angry about all the wasted time. She wants him to love her just as much as she loves him. But, if she just let him stay, she'd be so overwhelmed by his reappearance that nothing between them would be fixed. If she sends him away, then he can clearly see that his same old behavior won't fly anymore. A bit cruel of Ana, yes. But, she is a pirate! So, I apologize for making you mad, but I hope you'll stick with me.

Yuna-Flowering: Hmm ... Jack/Ana or James/Ana ... guess you'll have to wait and find out!

Thank you so much for all of the reviews!


	19. At a Rope's End

Disclaimer: I do not own PotC or any of its characters.

**Chapter Nineteen: "At a Rope's End"**

If Anamaria had been able to take a step back and analyze the events that had just transpired, she would have come to the conclusion that she and Prescott were very much alike. Both siblings were fiercely loyal, when they wanted to be, both could wound a man just as deeply with words as with a blade, and, of course, both had lightning fast tempers that could turn into full blown tempests in a matter of minutes. Two wills as strong as those belonging to the Tarret children were bound to clash a time or two, and it was always difficult to tell if brother or sister would hold out longer. However, as Ana stormed down the stairs and out the front door after Prescott, she was not amusing herself by comparing his personality to hers. She was not looking at the situation from Prescott's point of view, trying to see what motivated him to say the things he had said. She was not hearing her father's voice when he'd counseled her to look at all sides of a story before acting. The only passage replaying inside of her head was _You've made your bed with a married man. Now, lie in it._ She felt the sting from those words, again and again, and she was far from objectivity. She was furious.

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"Well," Prescott began, as he found Jack standing just outside of Admiral Norrington's estate. "That certainly could have gone better." A bit of an understatement, considering that Jack hadn't said nearly enough, and Prescott may have said just a bit too much. Frankly, he was quite surprised that his baby sister hadn't slapped him silly for his last comment. Still, he wasn't sorry that he'd said it. He was completely fed up with Annie, and with Jack, for that matter. Two of the people that he cared about most in this world were behaving like fools, and, as far as he could tell, no end was in sight.

Annie was seeing Jack, maybe for the first time, for the fallible human being that he truly was. She had every right to be angry for the way he had treated her. There was no excuse for seeking comfort from professionals that roamed the streets and leaving Annie to spend her nights alone. She should not have had to put up with Jack's ungentlemanly behavior for so long. Maybe she even should have left him years ago, but she hadn't. And the only explanation Prescott could fathom was that Annie really did love the pirate Captain. If she hadn't given his cheating carcass the deserved heave ho, then she must have decided that her life without Jack would be far more unbearable than her life with him.

As for the intrepid pirate Captain, well, he was finally starting to realize how desperately he needed Annie. Since they first sailed together, Jack _had_ trusted her, even though he never seemed to admit it to himself. More than that, he'd loved his first mate from the first time he saw her. Jack, however, had been severely damaged by just about everyone he'd ever known. Former shipmates and lovers, his father, his brother and so many people who'd called themselves friends had all hurt the pirate, kicked him while he was down, and, eventually, left him alone.

Jack Sparrow had been in love before, a fact few knew. He had laid his heart in the hands of another woman, told her all of his secrets, and she had done the same. But, when all was said and done, that woman had dropped his heart in the dirt and laughed as he cried. Maybe he should have been able to see that Annie was different, that she would never dream of wounding him so deeply. There was no questioning that he should have swallowed his fear and his pride and told Annie how he felt, long before now. Maybe he regretted it, maybe not, but he could no more go back and right the wrong than Prescott could walk across the water in the harbor.

Shifting his weight, Prescott placed his hand on his hip. Jack had not moved, nor had he made any indication that he even saw Prescott standing next to him. He simply stood, with his back against the stone wall that encircled the Admiral's mansion, staring down at his feet. "Still with me here, Jack?"

The pirate lifted his head slightly. "I told her," he said flatly.

Despite the less than successful outcome resulting from the last time Prescott had said the first thing that popped into his head, he decided to do it again. "Congratulations. I'll start organizing a parade in your honor, straight away." Now, Jack did look up. His wide, disbelieving eyes were fixed on Prescott's face. Prescott lifted his brow. "I'm sorry, Jack," he continued. "But, I'm not impressed. My sister thought you were dead, and now, suddenly, you show up again and profess your true affections?" Prescott held his one remaining arm out to the side in a puzzled gesture. "What do you expect her to do? Fall into your embrace and forget everything else?"

The broken pirate Captain seemed to begin piecing himself back together. He almost looked offended by what Prescott had said. "I told her tha' I love her, and she asked me t' leave, mate. I'd say she bloody well hasn't forgotten a thing."

"That's it, then? She isn't instantly swept off of her feet by three short words you should have said ages ago, so you're what … finished?" Jack clenched his jaw and something sparked behind his eyes. The pirate was getting annoyed. Prescott almost smiled. _Good_, he thought to himself. _It's about bloody time._ The indomitable Jack Sparrow had been taking this laying down for entirely too long. If he wasn't going to act like the pirate he really was, then it was no wonder Annie couldn't talk to him.

"She doesn't want me," Jack insisted, his voice angry and low.

"You're wrong," Prescott interrupted. "She doesn't want the man who ran willingly into other women's beds, the man who's too damn scared to tell her that he loves her. She doesn't want the man who lives behind walls that are six feet thick." Jack's black eyes softened, slightly. "She wants the man that she sees on the rare occasion when you let her see beneath all of Captain Jack's bluster."

"Then what, Scotty?" the pirate asked. "Wha' if she gets behind all the walls and there's nothin' there?"

Prescott arched an eyebrow. He felt the peculiar desire to bash his head against the stone wall they were standing next to, for that would be about as productive as arguing with a man who had his mind made up. "You've been a pirate for well over twenty years, right?" Jack nodded, wearing an expression that said he had no idea why Prescott had so abruptly changed the subject. "How many merchant vessels have you chased down in that time … rough estimate."

Jack crossed his arms. "Hundreds," he replied.

"How many of them were carrying more than a thousand pounds?"

"Ow am I supposed t' remember tha?" Jack asked, rolling his eyes.

"A third … A quarter?" Prescott pushed, ignoring his friend's gesture of impatience.

"Less."

"I've had the same luck. Three quarters of the ships I've boarded have been near empty." Jack pursed his lips, starting to see where Prescott was going with this. "But," the older pirate lifted his index finger. "Then, there's that one in fifty. Military payroll or a supply ship, fully loaded with gold and stores enough to make memories of the empty ships disappear."

Swallowing, Jack uncrossed his arms. "And if I'm not the one filled with gold?"

Prescott threw his arm up in the air. "Is it possible for you to be a little less negative?" Jack didn't answer. He'd never been accused of hopeless optimism. "For heaven's sake, she keeps chasing after you because she loves you, Jack. Every now and again you've let her find gold, but if you stop giving her anything for her efforts, pretty soon she's going to give up."

Jack still didn't argue. Prescott took a breath. His brother knew this already. Jack knew that Annie could only be pushed so far, and what truly worried him was the knowledge that he may have already crossed that line.

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"You've made your bed with a married man," Ana muttered, mimicking her big brother's voice. "So, what if I have, Prescott. Who in the hell are you to question it?" The lady was, of course, stomping down the winding dirt path that led to Admiral Norrington's front door, alone, but that did not stop her from letting her brother have a piece of her mind. "Imagine," she went on. "Lessons on morality from a man who took his first wife because she was expecting a child. Preposterous."

Anamaria was quite ready to drive the tiny dagger she'd brought from the house straight through her brother's shriveled black heart. Not that she wanted to kill him, but if he was severely impaired for a while, she'd not lose any sleep. The audacity of that man, presuming to judge her. What did he know about it, anyway. Scarlet's heart belonged to Prescott from the moment she had him in her sights. He couldn't have escaped her if he'd wanted to. He didn't have to bend over backward to make sure that Scarlet trusted him. He didn't have to wait thousands of nights to hear her tell him that she loved him.

The lady pirate slowed her pace as she neared the end of the Admiral's private road. She heard her brother's voice, unmistakable in its scolding tone. He was saying something about merchant vessels, but Ana couldn't make out much else. Stepping around the corner, she was somewhat surprised that Prescott had been using his best I'm-right-and-your-wrong tone with Jack. Hadn't Prescott been on Jack's side?

For a split second, before Jack recognized her, the pirate almost looked like the indefatigable Captain that he was. In that instant, his shoulder's were squared, his eyes were full of fire and energy, and he was proudly facing whatever onslaught Prescott was throwing at him. However, as soon as those fathomless eyes met Ana's, his posture slumped and his stance wavered.

Ana stepped closer, as her brother turned to see what had altered Jack's attitude so drastically. She moved to slap him full across the face, but Prescott easily caught her hand. "Sorry, Sis," he said. "I was expecting that one."

Smiling deviously, Ana pressed her dagger against any man's most vulnerable spot. "Well, my darling brother, if I cannot hit you, I can at least make sure you don't father any children as impudent as yourself."

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Prescott's eyes dropped to where Ana's blade threatened him. He actually chuckled. This day just kept getting better and better. Maybe a squad of marines could happen to be marching by, notice two wanted criminals standing in front of the Admiral's house, and haul he and Jack off to prison. At least if he was hanged, he wouldn't have to take part in any more drama between his sister and Sparrow. "You know, Annie," he started. "I'm half tempted to let you cut off my balls and end this day as wonderfully as it started."

Ana's lips parted a little. He must have said something exactly opposite to what she had been expecting. He felt the knife pressed against his breeches waver ever so slightly. Ever the pirate, he took advantage of his sister's brief moment of indecision. Placing his toe behind Annie's ankle, he pushed on the arm he still held in his hand. Her balance lost, the lady quickly found herself on her backside on the grass.

From the ground, Annie glared up at her older brother. She was about to scold him, again, but he was truly at the end of his rope. He had tried to help Jack and Annie by bringing the presumed dead pirate to Kingston. Clearly, he had failed in said attempt. Ignoring his better judgment, Prescott drew his sword. "I've had enough," he snarled, pointing the blade somewhere in between Jack and Annie. "I'm going to a pub, and, when I find myself sufficiently drunk, I'm going to return to _Loyalty._ Then, I'm taking her back to sea, and I don't give a damn if either of you are aboard."

TBC

Alright, first of all, this author only writes what the muse gives me to work with. So, for all of you who are furious at one or more of the characters, don't take it out on me :-) I'm trying to write this story in a "real" and believable way, and real people do real stupid things sometimes, especially when they're hurt. So, yes Jack's a fool, Prescott is infuriating, Norrington's in the way, and Ana's a bitch. Such is the way of life my dear reviewers! Alright, onto the notes ...

Cal: First of all, I must say that you are undeniably Ana's biggest supporter, aren't you? I pray that men who behave badly never cross your path. I find myself constantly defending Jack in your notes, and I think you do see my point, but your something of a hellcat yourself, no? Anyway, as far as your last review, we both know that Ana isn't stupid, far from it. It hasn't taken a strong, intelligent woman like her 20 years to see the truth of her relationship with Jack. Knowing her, they've had this arguement before now, right? She's probably yelled at him and slapped him for his treatment of her on several occasions, but this is just the first time she's seriously contemplating _leaving_ Jack. This is sort of the do or die moment and I think Ana and Jack both know it.I mean, let's face it, if life with Jack were really so awful, Ana would be long gone. _She_ can only think of one thing she's done to make Jack not trust her, but maybe she's done other things that hurt him without realizing it. Now, I'm not excusing Jack, cause obviously he half to blame, but we can't put Ana on a pedestal either. When I write from Ana's POV, I really try to forget everything else, and write solely from her. She's horribly upset and more than a little conflicted. She's remembering Jack's mistakes, but she isn't remembering any of her own. So cut Jack a bit of slack, he had to have done something write to hold onto a woman of Ana's caliber for so long. As for hating Pres, well, Cal you're breaking my heart there. But, ol' Scotty has quite a way with words, so I'll let him explain himself. There, I think your note has just doubled the length of my post!

An-Angel-In-Hell: I'm glad you appreciated the technique. I just think thatin thatsceneeach character's reaction was important, so I gave it to you!

BlackMary47: You're absolutely right. By waiting so long to tell Ana his feelings, Jack almost made his worst fear come true. Poor pirate. As for hurting Ana, I think what's just happened hurt everyone, and there will be some major angst before any of these wounds start to heal. I'm also glad you appreciated Pres' comments. He may have been a bit harsh, but he knows how much Jack and Ana love each other. I think he wants to see them happy, he just doesn't know how to get them to that point, so he's trying everything he's got.

Yuna-Flowering: Ana's point of view is easy to understand, anyone who's ever been in a relationship that was less than perfect can sympathize with her. And Gillette's true colors are definitely starting to show, so stay tuned!

DyingStar: I'm glad to see your anger's cooled a bit. Ana does have a heart, and I think her behavior is her only way of protecting it right now. She's more than a little confused by Jack's reappearance, seeing as she just shared a rather steamy night with one of his greatest enemies. It is easy to hurt right along with Jack, he's sort of like a kicked puppy right now, isn't he? Next, chapter promises another Jack/Ana confrontation, so buckle your seatbelt. Lastly, just one little correction, ol Lizzie isn't plotting with her son she's plotting with Gillette. Sorry, if that was unclear.

SylviaD: I am sorry for the cliffy, but that's just my evil nature! First of all, you absolutely warm my heart every time you sing Scotty's praises. I love him too, and I'm so glad he's found a place in the hearts of so many of my reviewers. I'm glad I was able to sum up what you were feeling about Jack and Ana. It's easy to be understanding of Jack, because he's the pirate of all our hearts. Still, it's hard for me to hate Ana. Both have made mistakes and both have some explaining to do, and I'm just getting to those parts. Glad you liked Lizzie's little twist, and I'm so glad you didn't see it coming. I don't think James will either.

Okay, finally done. Thanks again for all of your feedback!


	20. Traveler's Rest

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from PotC.

**Chapter Twenty: "Traveler's Rest"**

The Traveler's Rest was by no means the choicest tavern along the docks. The whores weren't the loveliest, and the whisky wasn't the oldest. The Inn served cold food and warm beer. However, in a shadowy corner booth, a pirate with a cheap bottle and no irritating companion was the happiest he'd been since hearing the news of the sinking of the _Black Pearl._

The tavern was dark and crowded with representatives from proper society as well as the not so proper citizenry. Near the bar, a table of marines were playing a card game they probably hadn't learned at the local officers club. At this point the pot included a pocket watch, a wedding ring, and a fetching brunette who was barely wearing a flattering blue dress. In the next booth, a man from the governor's staff was making a deal with a man who definitely was not from the government offices. Across the room, a haggard merchant drank heavily, as though attempting to forget the problems he left at the door. Reclining in the dimly lit corner booth at the other end of the pub, another somewhat well known pirate was watching the scene just as keenly as Prescott. The former officer nodded his head in the man's direction, and the other pirate lifted his glass slightly to "Lefty Scott."

Prescott was not enjoying the whisky, but he was enjoying the almost theatrically interesting scenes unfolding in front of him. A young marine, who'd probably never seen the inside of a tavern before today, had just won a new pocket watch, his sergeant's wedding ring, and a night of education from a very professional woman. His eyes were wide and frightened as the woman led him away from his comrades, who were all sending him lewd encouragements. Prescott chuckled, thinking he could quite contently drink himself silly and stumble back to _Loyalty_ without sparing one more thought for the lover's drama going on between his little sister and Jack. And, if he kept going at the brisk pace he'd already set, maybe he truly wouldn't care how the whole affair played out.

Quite unexpectedly, a young man in a pristine uniform slid onto the bench opposite Prescott. The older man turned a somewhat bleary gaze to his uninvited guest. "Son," he said, his voice only slightly slurring. "I'm attempting to remain unnoticed while losing myself in this bottle of abhorrently cheap whisky. That will become increasingly difficult the longer a sparkling white midshipman shares my table. So, my advice to you would be that you remove yourself from this establishment as quickly as your legs will carry you." Prescott smiled after he finished his wordy speech, amused by how much he sounded like Jack when he drank.

"I'm John – "

"John Norrington, I know who you are," the pirate went on, happy to see that his recognizing the young man had caused John pause. "Your father's son, with your mother's eyes," Prescott didn't know what he meant by that last statement. He suspected the liquor was starting to speak for him, just the tiniest bit.

The midshipman turned his eyes to the table top, momentarily interested by the various stains in the wood grain. Suddenly, finding courage anew, he once again faced Prescott. "I heard everything," he said, keeping his voice low. The pirate lifted an eyebrow, hoping to convey the notion that he didn't know or care what the boy was talking about. John took a breath. "My father," he said, pausing. "Your sister."

"Oh," Prescott couldn't stop the drunken smile from splaying across his face. "_That_ everything." The midshipman nodded silently. "Well, I am sorry, but all fairytales end, and most aren't happy ever after."

"I know my parents are not perfect," John said. "I know my mother loved another man years ago, and that my father will probably forever be her second choice." Prescott's brow rose. "My father would never divorce my mother – "

"No, far too many rumors."

John nodded impatiently. "Exactly. My parents may not love each other, but they love scandal even less."

"My dear Mr. Norrington," Prescott said, already suspecting what the young man was insinuating. "I am not a diplomat or a government officer. I am a pirate. If you have something you want to say, speak plainly. I've no need for word puzzles and implications."

The boy leaned across the table, beckoning the former officer to do the same. "My mother will not stand for it. She's never much cared for your sister anyway," he said, casting a glance over his shoulder as though someone might be eavesdropping.

Prescott rolled his eyes. He sensed that Norrington's son may actually have some bit of pertinent information, but he was going to die of old age waiting to hear it. "Damn it, man," he swore. "Out with it."

"When you and Captain Sparrow left," John said, seemingly getting to the crux of what he'd come to say. "My mother was in the study … with Captain Gillette."

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Concealing herself in the long burgundy draperies, Elizabeth Norrington watched the one armed pirate draw his sword, say something that apparently shocked the company he was keeping, and turn to stalk away from the Admiral's house. Captain Gillette, who'd been standing just behind her, made a move to leave as well. "Wait," Elizabeth whispered. Just outside, Jack and Anamaria stood facing one another. They weren't going anywhere, and neither was Gillette. "Sparrow's still out there," she explained.

"Yes," the Captain agreed. "But, if we allow Lefty Scott to get away, we may never find him again."

Gillette was right, of course. Prescott Tarret was the kind of man who could disappear round a corner and never reappear until _he_ wanted to be seen. While Elizabeth severely disliked the man, it was his younger sister who was currently bearing the brunt of her rage. She was not helping Gillette take down two of the last great pirates in the West Indies because she was having a sudden crisis of conscience. Not even close. Elizabeth was helping the Captain because Anamaria could potentially break up her marriage and her picture perfect life. Imagine, an Admiral carrying on relations with a piratess. If there were a worse scandal, Elizabeth could not envision it.

"Take Sparrow into custody," Elizabeth began, "Then, set a trap using him as bait. Lefty Scott will not let his friend go to the noose without a fight. If you wait, he will come to you." Gillette smiled slyly, apparently impressed by the Admiral's wife. She ignore his nonverbal praise. Elizabeth wasn't looking for accolades, she was looking to systematically dismantle the dark skinned lady pirate's life. First, she would bring down Anamaria's love, then she would take away her family, and all the while she would be aiding the Navy in keeping the waters of the Caribbean safe for decent people. If she had any time to consider it, Elizabeth would have been quite proud of herself.

"I'll just go collect Sparrow, then," Captain Gillette was saying.

Elizabeth nodded. "Hurry," she instructed, watching the two pirate's faces as the spoke on the side of the road. Yes, hurry. Get there and snatch Jack away from his lady fair before he's had the time to say his apologies or profess his affections. Take him from Anamaria before she has the chance to know his heart.

88888

Sheathing his blade with the casual inattention characteristic of a man who lived his life by a sword, Scotty shot one more glare to each his sister and Jack, before turning on his heel and storming down the road. Watching the older pirate's exit, Jack pitied anyone who may have the misfortune of finding themselves in his way. He'd heard Scotty say things like this before, heard him declare that he couldn't care less if his sister and Jack went to hell in a hand basket. But, those times, Scotty had been shaking his head and laughing, he hadn't been deadly serious.

The pirate in Jack wanted to say _Sorry, love_ and take off after Scotty. The pirate knew that his life was forfeit if _Loyalty_ sailed away and left Jack in hostile territory. However, the lovelorn man that was no longer buried so deeply within Jack's heart was keeping the pirate Captain rooted to the spot where he stood, outside of Norrington's house. That man knew that if he walked away from Ana right now, she would never forgive him and his life would be forfeit anyway.

Looking down at Ana, still sitting on the grass where her brother had gracelessly deposited her, Jack remembered the first time he'd ever met the intrepid woman who'd so affected his life. He couldn't remember actually seeing her, for he'd been in a ghastly prison, waiting for the sweet repose of death to mercifully claim him. What he remembered was her voice. She had knelt beside his tortured body and prayed … prayed for him. _Courage, Captain, do not stumble though thy path be dark as night. There is a star to guide thee. Let the road be dark and dreary and its end far out of sight. Face it bravely, strong or weary. Trust in God, and do the right._ She had not known him from Adam, but she had cared enough to send words to the Almighty on his behalf. Those words, that voice, had gotten him through a hell he hadn't known he wanted to live through.

The beginning of the prayer, _do not stumble though thy path be dark as night_ had always been the part Jack recalled. So many times he'd trudged down paths so black he never thought he'd see the light of day again. However, this dark path he had created for himself. He did not need to worry about stumbling, because he had already fallen to his knees and was barely managing a crawl. This day, the ending of that prayer was much more relevant. _Face it bravely, strong or weary. Trust in God, and do the right_.

For too many years, Jack had taken his lady for granted, assuming she would always be there to put up with him. But the past few days had shown him, with startling clarity, that he could lose Ana. Broken on the beach of another desert island, Jack had made a promise to God, to himself, to Ana. He'd sworn that if he'd only had the chance, he would make certain that Ana knew how vital she was to the him. She was the deck beneath his feet and the air he breathed. She was the life's blood running in his veins, she was what sustained him.

On that island, a man who made few promises had pledged that he would right the wrongs he done, if he got the chance. Well, fate or Scotty or God was giving him the opportunity that he had begged for. _Do the right_. He had gone so long without doing right by Ana. If he stood any chance of holding on to her, he would have to do right … right now.

"Jack,"Ana's voice, unsteady, interrupted his new found determination.She rose from the ground, brushing off her dress and hesitantly meeting Jack's eyes. She drew in an nervous breath. "I've been with James."

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Admiral Norrington watched from an upstairs window as Annie spoke to the pirate. He could not hear what she was saying, and he was too far away to read her lips, but he knew just the same. The rigidity of Sparrow's stance, the anxious expecting look on Annie's face. She'd told him about last night. She'd told the pirate that she had lain with an Admiral. James waited almost as nervously as Ana for the pirate Captain's response.

"Not going after her, then," Elizabeth's voice turned her husband away from the window.

Across the room, she stood leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and frown fixed on her normally pretty face. James knew that his wife was only trying to bait him, so he chose not to respond. He did not know how he was going to recover his marriage, or if he even wanted to. He had no idea if Annie would stay or go. He had no idea if Elizabeth would stay or go. He did know that no good would come of constantly fighting about events that could not be changed.

"Pity," Elizabeth commented. "She may be in need of a knight in shining armor." A devious smile followed the words.

Eyes wide, James turned his gaze back to the window. His brow furrowed and his mouth fell open. "Elizabeth," he whispered. "What have you done?"

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Jack, who had been looking like he was about to say something, opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for some sort of response but finding none. Ana did not know why she told him. Remnants of childhood lessons about honesty being the best policy, or the desire for the air to be completely cleared between she and Jack. Maybe she had been feeling hypocritical being angry at Jack for meaningless affairs when she'd just engaged in one that was not so meaningless. Maybe she wanted him angry enough so he wouldn't want her back. Perhaps she just wanted to see some spark of emotion from the man who used to be so charismatically animated. It didn't matter. The words were out there in the universe and could not be rescinded.

If she were looking for some emotional response from Jack, she was not going to be disappointed. The man who had laid bare his soul and fallen to his knees before her was gone. The man who's determination, bravery, and poise had first taken her breath away was back. The proud broad shoulders, a squared jaw cut from stone, and eyes deeper, darker, and more smoldering than any Ana had ever seen had reappeared.

"Norrington?" he said, as though he wanted her to be referring to any other James.

She nodded, now understanding why she had told Jack about her night of indiscretion. Ana wanted a fight. She didn't know how she wanted the fight to end, with Jack charging into the Admiral's house and demanding satisfaction or with him rushing away never wishing to see her again. But, she did want passion, of some kind, from the pirate Captain.

Jack took a step back, utter disbelief and shock warring for control of his face. "Why?"

Grief. Loneliness. Fear. Ana could have answered Jack's simple question a dozen different ways. "You were dead, Jack," she said, deciding for the most brutally honest. "I thought I was alone."

"Didn't take you long t' find company, did it?" the pirate said, looking as though he'd surprised himself by voicing that accusation.

"I'll wager it took me longer than it ever took you in Tortuga, or Eleuthera, or Trinidad or Curacao… need I go on?"

Jack's body stiffened, taking Ana's blow. "You never –"

"I never, what, left?" the lady pirate interrupted. "No, I didn't. I had this misguided notion that I was more important that all the others. Like an imbecile, I thought that one day you would come back from another woman's bed and realize I was the one you really wanted," Ana was a little taken aback by the words that were so easily falling off of her lips, but she could do nothing to stop them. "I lived in a fantasy world where the pirate Captain was in love with his first mate. I couldn't see the truth staring me in the face. I was blind, and I was a fool. But, I can see everything very clearly now, Jack. You were dead, and you died without ever telling me what I was waiting to hear." Ana finally stopped shouting. She was almost out of breath but not finished. "You don't trust people, Jack. I know that you've tried and it's nearly killed you. But, I don't know what else I can do to make you trust me. I – "

"I do trust you."

The pirate's quiet declaration completely halted Ana's tirade. He said it. He trusted her, and he actually said it. He finally said what she had hoped to hear for years, and she did not have a clue what to say back.

Jack took a deep breath, steadying himself. He seemed to be trying not to yell. "I do, and I have, since tha' night in your garden," he paused, black eyes meeting hers, completely without fear or trepidation. "My life has … has been in your hands ever since."

"A lovely sentiment, Sparrow," Ana turned to see Gillette, backed by ten marines, smiling smugly at her Captain. "But, I'd have to disagree. I'd say your life is in the hands of British authorities, now."

TBC

Well, at long last, there it is. If anyone's interested in my excuse for such a long wait, my parents were in town and have been staying with me for the past two weeks. So, sadly, real life took priority over writing. Accept my apology in the form of lots of Jack/Ana action and this rather longer than usual chapter. And, know that no matter how long I rudely leave you hanging, I'm not giving up on this story. I actually have a pretty good idea of how it's going to end, so I just have to get there!

Please, let me know what you think of this last chappy. I love reading your reviews and hearing your feedback!


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